


Not Where It Ends

by lilgirlost (lil_grl_lost)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Knotting, M/M, Male Lactation, mpreg (past)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:17:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2577953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_grl_lost/pseuds/lilgirlost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Society has always told omega Steve Rogers that his only wants in life should be a good mate and a house full of children. So when the United States enters World War II, Steve's ready to throw society's expectations out the window and join the fight, even if it means lying on his enlistment forms and leaving his and Bucky's young daughter behind. Yet, Steve never imagined that war would not only take Bucky's life, but his as well.</p><p>Now waking up seventy years in the future, Steve is faced with a world he doesn’t recognize; a world where his daughter is now a grandmother. And as he tries to make sense of this new world, Steve must also find his place within his new family. A family that includes a grandson, who spends his days fighting for an organization founded by friends, and a great-granddaughter, who in some ways reminds him so much of Peggy Carter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank Adrienne for being an amazing friend, who held my hand and was kind enough to beta this for me in the 11th hours. That being said, any and all remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> The plot for this story was inspired by [_The Ties That Bind_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1073725) by [ Odsbodkins](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Odsbodkins/pseuds/Odsbodkins), which I found to be amazing and so thought provoking that it caused my brain to wonder about what ifs... mainly what if, Steve and Bucky had left a child behind. 
> 
> Also, as this story began to take shape, Carrie Underwood's _See You Again_ became this story's theme song. So if you get the chance, I highly recommend you listen to it because it's a lovely song with a truly touching music video to go along with it.
> 
> While on the subject of music, Allofthefandoms put together a wonderful fanmix (and cover art) for my story, so make sure you check it out [here](http://aggressivelybicaptainamerica.tumblr.com/post/101912756224/i-want-you-to-stay-a-fanmix-for-the-steve-bucky).

**_December 1939_ **

“Mr. Barnes?”

Pulling his hands away from his bowed head, James Buchanan Barnes—Bucky to his friends—rose from his chair to meet the doctor, who looked just as tired and ragged as Bucky felt (and probably looked). “How are they?” Bucky asked in a rush, peering into the worn face of the older man, hoping against hope that there still was a ‘them’.

When he had arrived hours early with his heavily pregnant mate, Bucky knew there was a high chance he could and would lose both his mate and their unborn child. Yet in that small corner of his mind, Bucky had still held onto hope that Steve and their child would make it, because Steven Grant Rogers had always been a fighter, even in the face of three huge alphas, who he had no business trying to fight—which had nothing to do with his dynamic and everything to do with his frail health.

“Your daughter came through it with flying colors, Mr. Barnes. She’s the picture of health. Your husband, however, is very weak. He’s resting, but I don’t see why he won’t make a full recovery. Though you need to understand, Mr. Barnes, he can’t have any more children or pregnancies. If he does, it would kill him.”

“I understand, doc,” Bucky breathed. “When can I see them?”

“I’ll have a nurse take you to your daughter,” the doctor replied with a small smile. It warmed his beta heart to see an alpha take an interest in his children. A lot of alphas only cared when their children reached puberty and their dynamic made itself known. “I know you want to see Steven, but given the late hour, I think once you see your baby, you should go home and get some sleep. Steven will still be here in the morning, son,” he added, laying his hand on Bucky’s shoulder and squeezing gently.

Bucky nodded his head, knowing the doctor was right. He understood, without being told, that Steve’s recovery would be long process over the coming weeks and months, so it stood to reason that he would bear the brunt of their daughter’s childcare until Steve was well again. It was an attitude that wasn’t considered natural or _normal_ for an alpha; yet, then again, when had Bucky ever done anything that anything that was normal. After all, if he had, he wouldn’t have mated or married an omega that society viewed as undesirable when it came to what qualities were considered ideal for a good breeding mate.

“Thank you, doc.”

“Congratulations, son. You have a beautiful family,” the beta doctor told him warmly before turning away and leaving Bucky to wait for a nurse.

Bucky stood silently, eyes unseeing as he mulled over the doctor’s words. They had never meant to get pregnant, but Steve did and there was no going back for either of them. This baby was going to happen regardless of whether they wanted it to or not, even if it meant Steve’s life in the process. 

“Sir.” Bucky turned at the light touch on his arm, focusing on the young, homely-looking nurse in front of him. “Doctor Winston said I was to take you to see your daughter.”

Instead of verbally replying, Bucky just smiled and waited for her to lead the way. The walk towards the nursery wasn’t long, but for Bucky it felt longer due to the guilt weighing heavily on his mind. In a few short minutes he was going to see his baby for the first time, yet he couldn’t shake the fear of Steve not making a full recovery like the doctor had predicated.

“Usually, we don’t let allow the fathers to hold the babies while they’re in the newborn nursery; but Doctor Winston said I was to make an acceptance, considering…” she explained gently, deciding that the rest was best left unsaid. There wasn’t any point in reminding the young alpha what he had come so close to losing.

Opening the door, she slipped quietly inside so not to disturb the slumbering babies as Bucky peered through the glass, searching for any sign that one of these tiny persons belonged to he and Steve. As Bucky looked through the rows of bassinets, one little girl—the second from the back—caught his eye. While the rest of her roommates were happily dreaming away on whatever it is babies dreamed of, her little eyes were shifting this way and that, almost as though she was trying to look at anything and everything at the same time. It was only when the nurse stopped in front of the girl’s bassinet that Bucky released an aborted chuckle. Of course, she was theirs. How could he have missed Steve’s large blue eyes staring back at him in that little scrunched up face?

With the help of a second nurse holding the door open for her, the nurse returned with his daughter swaddled in a thin white cotton blanket. “Here we are,” she murmured warmly; although Bucky couldn’t be certain who was speaking to, him or the beautiful girl in her arms. Regardless, Bucky stood entranced by the sight of this little creature that he and Steve had created. “Do you want to hold her?”

“Can I?” Bucky asked, clearly dumb-founded by the mere idea that he could be trusted with such a precious cargo. The last baby he had held had been his younger sister, Rebecca, who tragically never made it to her sixth birthday.

“Of course,” the nurse replied before using her free hand to move Bucky’s arms into the proper position. Once satisfied, she gently placed the still fidgeting girl into her father’s awaiting arms. “You need to make sure to support her head.”

Cradling his daughter close, the expression on Bucky’s face was a mixture of awe and wonder at seeing and holding his daughter for the first time. In addition to Steve’s large blue eyes, she appeared to have his chin and cheekbones. Although the jury was still out on her hair, it was light dusting of peach fuzz at the moment, so there was ever possibility of it being blonde as Steve’s or become as dark as his. “How long do I have?”

“A few more minutes,” she replied. “It’s late and this little sweetheart needs her rest.”

Bucky smiled sadly. “I understand.” For the remaining time he had, Bucky traced his daughter’s features with his free hand, taking comfort in the fact that she was real and whole… the picture of health as the doctor had assured him.

“Sir?”

“Just another minute,” Bucky requested, not wanting to give his daughter back just yet because after the death of his parents, Steve became his whole world. A world that now included the little girl in his arms. “You listen to me, darling, you be good for the nurses and me and your daddy will see you in the morning.”

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, Bucky murmured a quick ‘I love you’ before handing her back to the nurse, who took her with a gracious smile. After she was settled in the nurse’s arms once more, Bucky stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and stepped back, not trusting that he wouldn’t reached out and grab for his daughter.

Bucky waited until the nurse had reentered the nursery before stepping back towards the glass, watching anxiously as she transferred the small bundle from her arms into an empty cot. It was only after he was sure that his daughter was in safe hands that he finally stepped back and turned, slowly making his way through the hospital’s hallways and out into the dark night. A glance at his battered watch told him that he should be reporting to the dock in a little over 4 hours; but after the night he had, Kaplan would probably let him slide for the day, even though they were desperate need of his wages now that they family had officially grown to three.

><><>< 

Bucky’s eyes swung back and forth as he followed the matronly nurse down the hall. Instead of a young and sweet faced young nurse like the night before, Bucky had been meet at the entrance to the maternity ward by an older beta nurse, who kind of reminded him of one of the nuns from Steve’s old orphanage.

Which kind of scared him… those nuns were scary, especially when he came around Steve’s pre-heat. They were the kind of betas, who didn’t trust Alphas are far as they could toss them, and it seemed like they trusted Bucky even less. Sister Constance once told him that he had the face and the charm that could make Lucifer seem saintly. Bucky simply grinned and winked and then sauntered down the street to wait for Steve at their corner.

“Please wait here, sir,” the nurse stated, bringing Bucky out of his memories and back to the present. “I’ll check to see that Mr. Barnes is awake.”

With a nod, Bucky shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and rocked back on his heels as he watched the nurse pushed the double doors open and let them swing shut behind her. As Bucky waited in the hallway, he breathed deeply, inhaling the smell of bleach and antiseptic, and tried to calm his anxious and guilty nerves. On the one hand, he hated that his love and lust for Steve had landed him the hospital; yet, on the other, they had managed to create a perfect and healthy little girl.

It didn’t take long for the nurse to return and usher him silently into the maternity ward, where she lead him down a short hall and then into a large, airy room with two straight rows of beds pushed against cheery yellow walls. On quick and efficient feet, she led Bucky towards the end of the room where Steve’s bed lay.

As Bucky approached, the sight of his mate laying pale and deathly still against stark white sheets turned his stomach. If anyone should’ve been in that bed, it should have been him and not Steve. Bucky didn’t deserve an omega like Steve that much he knew; his mate needed an alpha that would be able to provide for him, so that he wouldn’t have to work or ever worry about keeping warm during those bitter New York nights.

“Hey jerk,” Steve wheezed when he caught the scent of his alpha. Though there was a small smile on Steve’s lips, Bucky knew Steve well enough to know that he was trying to put on a show and make Bucky feel better; but the alpha wasn’t having it. If Steve wanted to be in pain, then he could very well show it and to hell with easing Bucky’s guilt.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” the nurse interjected; however as she turned to leave, she paused and threw over her shoulder a quick remainder that Steve needed his rest so Bucky couldn’t stay very long.

Even after she left, Bucky continued to stare at Steve, unwilling to move forward out of fear of causing his mate more harm. Yet even though he had always been the weaker of the two, Steve still managed to have a commanding presence on Bucky, even laying in a hospital bed. “Come here,” Steve rasped, his bright blue eyes staring into Bucky’s own, silently commanding the alpha to do as he’d been told.

Without needing to be told twice, Bucky practically leaped into the chair beside Steve’s bed and grabbed his omega’s hand, taking care not to squeeze it too hard. After all, he didn’t want to be the cause of any more of Steve’s pain. “If I’m jerk, then you’re a punk,” Bucky chuckled.

From his chair, Bucky witnessed the slight twitch of humor on Steve’s dry lips and in the moment, it was like he knew that Steve was going to be fine. The battle would be uphill for a while; but his mate would definitely pull through and come out the other side. Letting go of Steve’s hand, Bucky poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table and then leaned over, his hand coming up to cup the back of Steve’s head as he helped Steve take a long drink of water.

Once he had taken his fill, Steve pushed Bucky’s hand and the glass away, resting once more against the scratchy sheets. “Have you seen her?”

At the mention of their daughter, a dopey grin settled on Bucky’s face which caused Steve to roll his eyes. For all his bluster about being an alpha’s alpha, it seemed to Steve that Bucky no trouble showing his emotions when it came to those he loved. “She’s perfect, Stevie,” he replied, his tone fondly teasing when he used Steve’s nickname.

The nuns had given Steve the nickname when he had finally presented as an Omega; but only because they were an Old Catholic Order, who firmly believed that male omegas should take names that representative of their dynamic. Thus Steven had become Stevie; but that was only after months of Steve refusing to answer to Stephanie or Effie.

Regardless, Steve hated Stevie as much as he had hated being called Stephanie or Effie. Bucky had been the one to point out that the nuns weren’t going to stop until they had made him as effeminate as society dictated a male omega should be. So Steve had begrudgingly allowed them to call him Stevie… at least until he had left the orphanage. The only person that called him Stevie these days was Bucky; but that was only when the alpha was trying to be cute and funny, which wasn’t hard to do when both seemed to be true half the time.

“Call the nurse,” Steve all but ordered as he tried to push his body up on weak arms. At seeing his mate struggle, Bucky leapt to his feet and wrapped his large hands around Steve’s slightly swollen waist and lifted, shifting Steve so that his back rested against the lumpy hospital pillows and the bed’s metal headboard. “I could have done that myself, jerk,” he groused before dry-coughing into his hand.

Bucky’s eyes soften. “I know you could,” he replied as he ran his hand down Steve’s arm and laced their fingers together, caressing the soft skin on the back of Steve’s hand with his thumb. Unfortunately Steve wasn’t having any of it, so with a jerk of his hand, Steve pulled his hand away and pointed it at double doors at the front of the ward.

“Go get my daughter,” the blonde muttered darkly, letting his mate know he meant business.

Holding his hands up in surrender, Bucky backed away and then turned, practically sprinting to the closest nurse. Once he was gone, Steve grinned and settled into his pillows, picking at the thin wool blanket covering his legs and stomach while he waited for Bucky’s return.

It didn’t take long for Bucky to pass along Steve’s message, so within minutes he was back at Steve’s side waiting patiently for the arrival of their daughter from the nursery. If it had been any other time, Bucky would have filled the silence with mindless chatter; but for the moment, he was content to just let the small sounds of the ward and Steve’s slightly wheezing breathe filled the void.

“Mr. Barnes?” The older, male omega nurse spoke as he approached the bed with their daughter cradled in the safety of his arms.

While it was nurse’s voice that made Bucky turn, it was his manner of dress that caused Bucky’s eyes to linger. Like many men of his generation, the omega had adopted what society (at the time) had considered proper for a male omega. So instead of trousers and dress shirts with his hair cut short, he wore a female nursing uniform and his hair long, artfully styled under his nurse’s cap.

Then just like all the times before, Bucky had to stop himself from frowning at seeing the male omega dressed like a dame. Though his frown had nothing to do with them being omegas, and everything to do with how much he hated that male omegas should look and act like women because they just so happened to be capable of bearing children. As far as Bucky was concerned, if he had wanted a dame then he would have bonded with a female Omega or Beta. Instead he had chosen Steve because he happened to like nuzzling and licking the pretty cock between Steve’s legs.

Pushing his chair back, Bucky made room so the nurse could deliver their daughter into Steve’s arms. And once she was safely cocooned in her father’s arms, Steve’s pale face became awash with the glow of love he felt towards his daughter. His little Evie… Evelyn Rose. A smile touched his lips when he thought about the name that he secretly been calling ever since he first felt her gentle fluttering.

All throughout the pregnancy, Bucky and Steve had bantered back and forth over the gender of their unborn child. And while Bucky reasoned that the strength of her kick inside Steve’s rounded stomach meant that she was a boy, Steve had held firm to the prospect of her being a girl, even going as far as citing mother’s instinct as the reason for his choice. Though secretly Steve had wanted a girl for Bucky’s sake. He had never gotten over the loss of his baby sister, so Steve wanted to give him back that gift—the gift of a little girl, who he could love and treasure like he had his sister, Rebecca.

Following the nurse’s departure, Bucky resumed his seat and leaned forward, so he could fest his eyes upon the little girl he had met the night before. As though she sensed their scrutiny, the girl’s eyes fluttered opened, blinking rapidly while she gave a yawn that seemed to engulf her entire face.

“Hello, beautiful,” Steve cooed, brushing his index finger along her cheek and feeling the softness in her newborn skin. With rapt eyes, Bucky watched as his little girl turned her head, little mouth seeking, and grabbed Steve’s finger, holding tight. “Strong grip, you’ve got. Huh, Evie?”

“Evie?” Bucky echoed, causing Steve to look into his eyes for the first time since their daughter had been delivered into Steve’s arms.

“Evelyn Rose,” Steve replied, a blush staining his cheeks, as he shifted his gaze from Bucky and back onto their daughter. Although his blush had nothing to do with embarrassment. Far from it. Steve was just happy because he could finally share the name he had picked for their daughter. For the longest, he had been worried about jinxing himself if he happened to breathe just one syllable of her name out loud.

With a million watt smile, Bucky reached up and ran his fingers thru Steve’s fringe, before leaning over to press a kiss to his mate’s forehead. “It’s perfect. Just like her,” Bucky murmured, his lips caressing Steve’s pale skin as he spoke.

Steve smiled and then tilted his head up, silently asking for a kiss, which Bucky was happy to give. “I wanna go home.”

“You’ll go home when the docs say you can, punk.”

“Jerk,” Steve sighed as he leaned back against the pillow, settling Evie on his small post pregnancy bump. Due to Steve’s numerous health issues, he had always been a small, so it wasn’t surprising that during his pregnancy, he had been all baby. Even though Bucky and their neighbors had tried their damnedest to fatten him up.

“Yet, you love me,” Bucky quipped, voice dripping with its usual charm.

Bonded or not, Bucky had a voice and manner that could charm the pants off anything that walked, and when they were younger, sometimes that charm was what put a roof over their heads at night, and not once did Steve ever question Bucky’s love for him. Everything Bucky did was to protect and provide for Steve, even as Steve protested against being treated like a weaker sex.

Steve smiled sleepily and breathed a soft “yeah,” as he eyes began to slip close. When Bucky had arrived, the nurse had worn him that Steve was weak and tired very easily, which could quite possibly continue for some time due to his frail health, so Bucky shouldn’t worry too much if Steve happened to fall asleep.

Taking Steve’s nod to slumber as his queue, Bucky slipped his hands gently under Evie’s small body and lifted her from Steve’s hold, and so with her tiny frame cradled against his chest, Bucky hunkered down into his seat, silently keeping watch over his family for as long as the nurses allowed.


	2. Chapter 2

**_May 1945_ **

_“Come in. This is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?”_

_“Captain Rogers, what is your loca—“ Morita began before being shoved out the way by Peggy, who took his seat at the microphone._

_“Steve, is that you?”_

_“Peggy! Schmidt’s dead!”_

_“What about the plane?”_

_Steve looked down at the plane’s instruments, flipping switches, and then said, “That’s a little bit tougher to explain.”_

_“Give me your coordinates. I’ll find you a safe landing site.”_

_“There’s not gonna be a safe landing,” Steve admitted, “But I can try and force it down.”_

_“I’ll,” Peggy said, searching the control room for someone to send, “I’ll get Howard on the line. He’ll know what to do.”_

_“There’s not enough time. This thing’s moving too fast and it’s heading for New York. I got to put her in the water.”_

_“Please, don’t do this. We have time. We can work it out,” Peggy pleaded, tears pooling in her soft brown eyes._

_“Right now, I’m in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer, a lot of people are gonna die.”_

_“Peggy… this is my choice… Peggy…”_

_“I’m here,” she whispered, her voice cracking when she spoke._

_“I’m gonna need you to make sure that Evie grows up happy.”_

_“She will,” Peggy assured him, hating herself for having to say those words._

_Even as Steve and Bucky fought their way across Europe, Evie had never been far from their hearts or minds, because everything they did was so she’d never have to grow up in a world full of bullies. It just wasn’t fair that Evie was going to lose both her fathers to HYDRA._

_“There’s a soft toy, a rabbit, in my footlocker. Make sure she gets it.”_

_“You got it.”_

_“The Kirkpatricks have been taking care of Evie, so see that she's taken care of.”_

_“All right.”_

_“I’d hate for her…”_

_Peggy leaned forward, clutching desperately at the microphone as the sound of static filled her ears. “Steve? Steve? Steve?”_


	3. Chapter 3

_Ring Ring Ring_

Rolling over, the young brunette glared at the red numbers of her alarm even as she reached out and grabbed her cell phone, silencing it as she held it up to her face. With a soft groan, she thumbed the screen and waited for the caller to speak. Because if it had been any other person, she would’ve ignored the call and gone back to sleep. Yet, her dad wasn’t the type to call unless he deemed it a vital importance and it was rare he deemed anything as such. She could remember him coming home from a three week “work thing” with a bullet hole through his shoulder and remarking ‘this stuff happens.’ Nana had walloped him good in the head and then offered to make him some stew.

“They found him, Sarah.”

Her dad’s statement chased the memories from the woman’s mind, effectively brining her back to the present. Sitting up in bed, she scrubbed her hand across her face and then leaned forward, elbows resting on her bent knees. “It’s almost 5 in the morning, dad,” she sighed. It was way too early in the morning for this cryptic shit. “And they found who?”

“Steve,” Phil breathed, the word coming out almost like a prayer… a prayer that their family had been waiting to intone for decades.

“Wait,” Sarah interjected, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “I thought the searches stopped after Howard’s death?”

“Apparently not.”

While Sarah couldn’t see her dad, she knew his tone well enough to know that he was not a happy bunny. Even if the rest of the Agents milling around believed he was unequivocally the pinnacle of SHIELD’s training and completely unfazed by their recent discovery; yet Sarah knew different. Just like her, he had grown up hearing stories of the kind of man his grandfather, Captain Steve Rogers, had been. But that’s where their similarities differed. Phillip J Coulson had clung to these stories and poured his heart into being the kind of man… omega Steve Rogers was. One that pushed back against the role society dictated for him and was willing to fight against those bigger and stronger than him, no matter the outcome.

Sarah, though, she raged against a man, who in her opinion, had thought only of himself and nothing of the daughter, her Nana, he was leaving behind. Sarah sometimes found herself wondering if her feelings towards Steve Rogers would’ve been the same if she had been born an omega like her dad and grandmother and not a beta.

Running her fingers through her hair, Sarah threw the blankets off and climbed out of bed, heading towards her dresser as she spoke her next words, “Where are you?”

“In route to New York,” he replied in clipped tones. His G-Man voice, a voice that Sarah had loved as a girl because it meant safety; though as she grew older, she started to see it was a way for her dad to compartmentalize his life into Phil Coulson, loving father and son, and Agent Coulson, badass agent of SHIELD. And Sarah hated it.

“I’ll meet you there,” Sarah announced before pressing the call button and denying her dad the chance to reply. After laying her phone on the dresser, Sarah tugged on a battered pair of jeans and a plain yellow v-neck t-shirt, topping it off with a navy blue New York Yankees track jacket. As she pulled the jacket on, Sarah had a brief moment of whether she should forgo the jacket given that Steve Rogers had been a diehard Brooklyn Dodgers fan, but then the moment passed with barely a shrug. Sarah wasn’t going to deny her likes just to spare Captain America’s feelings, so he’d just had to deal with it.

Grabbing her phone from the dresser, Sarah slid into her pocket as she pushed her feet into a pair of blue thong sandals. And then with a quick glance at her mirror to check her hair, Sarah was out the door, closing it softly behind her.

As she made her way down the stairs, Sarah found herself stopping near the bottom, her hand reaching out for one of the framed sketches, before she had even realized she had done it. The sketches had been a staple in her grandmother’s house for as long as she remembered, a memorial to a family that could and should have been allowed to grow. Yet war and circumstances had not only robbed two men of their futures, but a little girl of her real family. Running her finger along the curved edge of the man’s shaded cheek, Sarah couldn’t help but see her face mirrored back: nose, mouth, the shape of her eyes. Everything that Sarah shared with her grandmother.

While any person with the internet could google Captain Steve Rogers and come up with thousands of images, ranging from film stills to trading cards, an image of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes was much rarer. And her grandmother had one of the rarest forms, a Steve Rogers original drawn years before the war, before her grandmother had been born.

And it was with that thought in her head, that Sarah reached out and grabbed the framed piece, tucking it under her arm and continued her way down the stairs. While she knew that her Nana would be upset to find one of her sketches missing, Sarah rationalized that Rogers might need it more than her Nana needed it at the moment.

Keeping a firm hold on the picture frame, Sarah continued down the stairs, only stopping long enough to disengage the security system, before crossing into the front entryway that separated the front door from the rest of the house. Once she was inside the enclosed space, Sarah shoved the frame into her purse before picking her bag up from the console table and slinging it over the shoulder. Following a quick check to make sure she had everything, Sarah left, closing the door softly behind her. Given the early hour and the fact she was the one her dad had called, there was no need in alerting her grandmother to her leaving until much later. Maybe after the sun had a chance to actually rise.

><><><>< 

“Ma’am, you aren’t—“

A voice trying hard not to sound timid rang out the minute Sarah entered through the lobby doors. While SHIELD’s Manhattan building was supposed to give the illusion of being a normal Manhattan skyscraper, given its glass windows, marble flooring, and lobby attendant, it was anything but and Sarah knew that if given the right reason, the _lobby attendant_ could drop her in a matter of minutes.

Stopping in her tracks, Sarah turned and leveled the agent with her best Coulson glare, a glare that had been known to send junior level agents scurrying for cover. He was unassuming, just like the rest of SHIELD’s agents and probably a beta if she had to take a guess.

Though, the sound of her dad’s voice that had cut the agent off before he even had the opportunity to finish his statement.

“She’s with me,” Phil Coulson stated, already striding across the marble towards them. With a smug smile at the beta, Sarah shifted her gaze to her dad, giving him an easy smile.

“Yes, sir,” the agent replied, already retaking his chair as Phil passed in front of the attendant’s desk and continuing pass where Sarah stood. As he passed by his daughter, he gave a short jerk of his head and moved onto the bank of elevators, knowing that Sarah understand to follow.

No further words were spoken until they had entered the elevator and Phil had pressed the button for their destination. “Warm welcome as always,” she quipped while giving her dad a cheeky grin before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hi, dad.”

With a twitch of his lips, that Sarah knew was the beginning of a smile, Phil murmured a soft, “Sarah.” If they hadn’t been in a SHIELD elevator, he would have smiled and hugged her. But within these walls, Phil had to be Agent Coulson—bland and bordering on the sarcastic—, who wasn’t known for his ready smiles or touches of affection.  

The elevator doors opened with a ding and Phil ushered her out into a long, beige hallway that smelled of antiseptic. With an arched brow, Sarah leveled her dad with a pointed look as her eyes shifted between him and the medical floor. “I’m going to assume that since we’re in SHIELD medical and not the morgue that he’s savable.”

“He’s alive,” Phil confirmed, stepping out of the elevator. “Barely breathing, but breathing.”

Sarah rolled the information around in her head and then asked, “The serum?”

“They’re assuming,” Phil replied as he lead the way down the hall.

As they walked, Sarah’s gaze shifted back and forth across the various personnel they passed. The only time she had ever stepped foot in medical was a few years ago and her stepdad had been the one in the bed. It was after an op gone wrong and a harrowing rescue by his SHIELD partner, he had confined to bed for three weeks before SHIELD would even think of sending him home… no matter how much he drove the nurses crazy.

The pair continued to move down the hall in silence until they reached a set of double doors near the end. Pushing them open, Phil motioned Sarah through and it was as she passed that Sarah paused and brought her hand up to cup his cheek, finally noticing the tired lines around his eyes. “Aw, dad, when was the last time you slept?”

“Oh,” he began nonchalantly until a barely stifled yawn gave him away, “a few hours.”

Shaking her head, Sarah scoffed, “Uh huh, which translates into a few days.” Patting the cheek still in her hand, Sarah rose to her full height of 5’4” and said in her best impression of Nana’s voice, “I know you old man, you and my stepdad. Go sleep, dad. It’s my turn to keep watch.”

Phil smiled fondly at her and then bent down to press a kiss to her forehead. “You’re a good kid,” he told her, whispering the words against her skin.

“I’m awesome,” Sarah laughed while shoving her dad away, intending to direct him out the door. With a roll of his eyes and surprisingly without comment, Phil stepped back through the still open doorway, letting it swing shut behind him.

Now that she was by herself, Sarah breathed a sigh and made her way down the hall, stopping just in front of Steve’s room. The large observation window allowed her to see inside the room and it was as she gazed upon the blonde man, a wave of emotion flooded through her. Instead of the anger she’d been expecting, an overwhelming sense of sadness and loss took center stage.

When Steve Rogers had left for war, his daughter had been a girl of barely four and now, she was a grandmother with a family of her own. A family that had been haunted by the loss of him and his husband, James Barnes. A family, that if he ever woke, he might not accept because they were a physical reminder of everything he never got to experience.

Blushing the tears from her eyes, Sarah walked forward and laid her hand against the glass, fingers tracing Steve’s face, much like she had done with Bucky’s image earlier. Deciding that it was now or never, Sarah pushed opened the room’s only door and entered, making her way over to the table near Steve’s hospital bed. Opening her bag, Sarah reached in and pulled out Bucky’s likeness, placing it gently on the table so that it would be the first thing Steve saw when he awoke.

With her task complete, she turned and retreated to the overstuff chair in the corner, pulling her phone out of her pocket before settling in the chair, curling up in it with her eyes already glued on her phone. There were a couple of emails she needed to send and some sleep she really wanted to catch up on.

><><><>< 

 Steve’s eyes fluttered against the soft lighting while his mind tried to make sense of where he was. The last thing he remembered was talking to Peggy over the radio, telling her to take care of Evie and then there was nothing but cold and darkness. Once his eyes had adjusted to the light, Steve turned his head and slowly began to taking inventory of his surroundings: the persistent beeping next to his ear, a clamp on his fingertip, and a frame sketch of Bucky on the table. The sketch that had always been Steve and Bucky’s little secret.

While the rest of Steve’s other pieces had purely innocent beginnings, this one had been sketched during the last few hours of their bonding heat. Bucky had left their bed to make lunch and when Steve had peeked around the door jamb and into the kitchen, the light had caught the blissful expression on Bucky’s face in such a way that Steve just had to draw him. Though he had focused most of his attention on Bucky’s face, least he accidently drawn the rest of the Bucky, and let everyone know what kind of alpha Bucky really was.

After taking his fill of the picture, Steve finally pushed his body up, groaning softly as muscles pulled and stretched like they hadn’t been used in while. Once seated, Steve brought his hand up and examined the clamp on it and as he made to remove it, a voice cut through the silent room, both startling him and causing him to jerk his head in its direction.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Captain. The nurses tend to get pissed when patients remove their cardiac monitors without permission,” she explained with a vague motion towards the off-white clamp on his finger.

Steve looked down at the clamp and then back at her with caution eyes; a stare she returned with unwavering eyes. Eyes that knew almost better than his own. They were eyes he fell in love with at ten and then again at twenty-one. After a couple of minutes, Steve broke the stare and slowly cataloged the rest of her appearance, from the dark brown hair pulled back in a messy bun to her denim-clad legs and shoeless feet tucked close to her torso. As his eyes settled again on her face, Steve thought about how she could’ve been Peggy’s sister; yet he knew that to be impossible because Peggy only had brothers. The lone alpha daughter in a small army of alpha, beta, and omega sons.

Moistening his lips to help him speak, Steve finally asked the one question that’d been weighing on his mind since he opened his eyes. “Where am I?”

The young woman didn’t answer his question right away, instead she unbent her knees and placed them on the floor, slipping them inside an open-toed sandal. And as she shifted positions, Steve could see that she making an effort to keep her hands in plain view while appearing that she wasn’t trying to. Someone had clearly taught her how to appear non-threatening in the face of an unknown situation.

“A hospital in New York City,” she supplied after a beat, never taking her eyes off of Steve’s.

 _That can’t be right_ , Steve thought as he broke eye contact to look around the room again. The furniture, the machines, and even the way she dressed didn’t match it being New York City. “Where am I really?” He asked again, his tone rising slightly in agitation while still maintaining its firmness.

“New York City,” she repeated, her eyes going a little misty as she spoke. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Captain Rogers, but you’ve been a sleep for almost 70 years.”

Steve couldn’t be sure if it was her words or the sadness in her voice that struck him the most. Either way, he knew the cause didn’t matter because both had served their purpose, if look of sympathy on the young woman’s face was an indication. Steve couldn’t imagine what his own face must have looked like to cause such an expression.

 _70 years…_ Steve thought. There were so many questions that he wanted to ask, _How did I survive the plane crash? Did we win the war? What about Peggy, Howard, and the Howling Commandos?_ Instead, through the haze of questions swirling in his mind, he managed to choke out a simple word, “Evie?”

And just like that, a change seemed to come over the young woman, transforming her standoffish regard for him to one of love. Apparently, he must have asked the right questions because she seemed to light up at the mention on Evie. “She’s my grandmother,” the brunette explained, her tone filled with the love she felt for the other woman. “And she’s fine. A little older than when you last saw her, but still fighting fit.”

While the tight feeling in Steve’s chest lessened at her words, and he understood that she wasn’t trying to level an accusation at him, Steve couldn’t shake the guilt at knowing that he missed so much of Evie’s life. Birthdays, Christmases, her wedding, and the births of not just her children but apparently her grandchildren. When Peggy had found him that bombed out pub, Steve had been vowing with every drink,… with every sip of whiskey, that he’d come home to Evie and give her a life that she deserved, one far away from the tenements of Brooklyn, just like he and Bucky had always dreamed about. They wanted to Evie to have a big house with fields and fields of fresh air and green, green grass.

Bucky had never made him feel less of an omega, just because Evie was going to be their only child; but Steve could never rid himself of the shame he felt by failing to give his alpha a house full of strong children. And now, he was face to face with the evidence that he had failed Bucky once again. If he had stayed home like Bucky wanted, Evie would have, at least, grown up with one parent. Instead, Steve’s sense of right had left her an orphan. _At least Peggy was there to love her_ , Steve thought briefly before dismissing that thought.

As he continued to struggle with his emotions, Steve observed the young woman move from her chair and come closer, reaching out slowly for his hand. Thinking that she was trying to offer comfort, he let her touch him. Though instead of grasping her hand in his, she tugged the clamp off his index finger and tossed it on the bed before she rounded the foot of the bed for the other side. Now that the clamp was gone from his finger, the steady beeping transformed into an almost deafening high-pitched wail. Fortunately, it didn’t last long because as soon as he turned his head, Steve saw her press a button on the machine, causing both the sound and the numbers to disappear.

The next few seconds happened so fast that Steve barely had time to register what actually occurred. One minute, it was just the two of them and in the next, three other people were bursting through the door, yelling orders at each other. Though it seemed the sight on him sitting up and looking well, caused them to quiet and pause, eyes shifting anxiously between each other.

“Go away,” his apparent great-granddaughter said firmly, leveling one of Bucky’s best glares at them. What happened next surprised him; instead of arguing, like the nurses would have in his time, the three people turned and disappeared almost as quickly as they had appeared.

With it just the two of them again, the brunette reached out and gently picked up the framed image, handing it to him in the same breath. “Hi, I’m Sarah.”

“That was my mother’s name,” Steve told her, giving her a small smile as he took the frame from her.

“I know,” she admitted, adding softly, “My dad named me after her.”

Steve nodded as he brushed his hand across Bucky’s face, wishing that it was his mate he was touching, instead of the cool glass; but Bucky was gone. Lost to death and the passage of time. Even as his gaze narrowed on Bucky’s face and his mind lost itself inside its memories, Steve could still sense Sarah’s movements as she settled on the mattress behind him, leaning her back against his. With her so close, Steve was finally able to detect her scent over the strong smell of antiseptic that was permeating the room. A scent that had the power to both calm and tug at his heart because of its close resemblance to Evie’s and thus Bucky’s. If it had been anyone else, Steve probably would have pushed her away; yet all he wanted to do was take comfort from her. Mainly because of what she represented, her presence meant that time hadn’t stopped for their family and through Evie, their family had grown to include grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

So with Sarah still leaning against his back and the memories of Bucky invading his every thought, Steve allowed the silence to fill the room. He knew that eventually he’d be ready to face his elderly daughter and when the time came, he knew Sarah would be there to take him to her.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Asherton, Texas_ **

**_June 1957_ **

Resting his hands on the steering wheel of his car, Howard Stark stared over the hood and watched as a dark hair teenager practically bounced down the short front walk to the mailbox. From her black flats and denim pedal pushers to her sleeveless cotton print blouse, she looked every bit the part of a stereotypical teenager. Yet, not even the photos gathered by SHIELD over the last few months had prepared Howard for this moment. Maybe he should have taken Peggy’s offer, instead of deciding to be a gentleman and letting her take her already planned vacation with her husband and children.

As it were, neither he nor Peggy had ever planned on making this trip; yet, Colonel Phillips’s death had changed all that. His death eight years ago meant that Howard and Peggy had lost their only link to Steve’s daughter… not that the Colonel had ever allowed them to get close to her. Though the old man had made it clear, he would tell Evie the truth on her eighteenth birthday and not a day before. His daughter and her husband, who had raised Evie from the time she was five and half, deserved that much consideration. So now it fell to Howard to tell this eighteen year old girl that her life wasn’t what she thought it was.

Squaring his shoulders back, Howard pushed open his car door and slowly approached, stopping a few feet from where the brunette stood. “Julie Miller?”

At the sound of his voice, she turned on the heel of her black flats and gazed at him, looking perplexed by his sudden appearance. “Yes? Can I help you?” She asked, her accent honey-sweet and with a slight drawl. Howard had secretly hoped that some part of Steve’s and Barnes’ Brooklyn roots had left their mark on their girl; yet, it seemed that not even her accent stood a chance against the lure of the Southern drawl.

“Howard Stark,” he replied while holding out his hand. It was only when she grasp his hand in a firm shake that Howard continued, “I was a colleague of Colonel Phillips.”

“Oh!” She exclaimed, dropping his hand, so she could close the mailbox. “Well, my mother isn’t home and won’t be until Sunday evening.”

“Actually, it wasn’t your mother I came to see. It’s you,” Howard explained, giving her his best smile. The same smile he used when charming a client or a pretty girl. However he didn’t hold the smile long because he remembered why he was here. Julie Miller wasn’t some pretty beta or omega that he wanted to sweet talk into his bed; she was the daughter of a man he had respected and still considered a friend. Why else did continue the search for Steve, long after Peggy had given up and moved on with her life? 

With those words, Howard watched as the teenager’s face shut down, eyes narrowing suspiciously at him. Howard had seen that same look a time or two on the face of Sergeant Barnes; yet, her bright blue eyes and pinched mouth were all Steve. “Why?”  

“What’s your earliest memory?” Howard pressed, his face open, honest, and unassuming. He needed to know if there was any possibility that she knew she was adopted… that there was an inkling of her parents buried somewhere within her memories.

“Listen mister,” she ground out, teeth clenched. Even though she smelled and acted like an omega should, it appeared she had inherited some Steve’s fierce determination and independence, which was heartening to see. So maybe behavioral scientist were right about some things. That children aren’t a blank slate, who are molded by the circumstances of their upbringing. Instead, they are gifted with some traits that inherently belong to their parents. “I don’t care if you are the richest man in the country. Get away from me or I’m calling the sheriff.”

“I hit a nerve, Julie. Didn’t I?” Howard taunted, unable to stop himself. Looking into her face and seeing his friend staring back, made Howard fall back into old habits. Steve had been so innocence and sometimes, Howard just couldn’t not tease him about his lack of knowledge concerning the world outside of Brooklyn. “Because you’ve known that you’ve never really belong in this family... with these people,” he pressed while gesturing to the clean cut lawns and white picket fences that lined the street.

It seemed that Howard’s words had their intended effect as tears began to pool in Julie’s eyes. “How would you know that?” She whispered, voice cracking under the strain of keeping her tone steady.

Her mother had never been an affectionate woman, so Julie had learned early in life that tears weren’t going to gain her mother’s love. If anything, it only seemed to anger her, causing her stern face twist into a horrific expression that usually sent chills down Julie’s spine. While her mother had never hit her, Julie knew there was unseen force that had stopped her from raising her hand to Julie, even when she had so wanted too.  

“I think it’s best if we did this inside. Maybe over coffee?” Howard said gently, though the girl’s tears made him feel a little uncomfortable. Peggy had warned him that there would be tears and possibly a little bit of heartbreak. But even with Peggy’s words ringing in his ears, he knew there was no way that he could have mentally prepared for the emotional fallout of his visit.

Wiping her damp cheeks with her hand, Julie gave Howard a watery smile and sniffled, “Coffee I can do.” Then without another word, she turned and led Howard up the front walk, her steps were slow and cautious, missing the bounce that had been present when she had left her house.

Upon entering the cool house, Howard’s eye was drawn to the meticulous furniture and the lack of personal detail in the sitting room. If Howard hadn’t know better, he would have assumed he had stepped inside a model house for a newly planned community. It looked nothing like the cramped apartment that Steve had left under the care of Mr. Votto during his USO tour. With Evie still living in their apartment building (just upstairs with the Kirkpatricks), Steve had wanted to keep their apartment exactly has he had left it. If only for Evie’s sake.

Howard never considered himself to be an emotional man; yet entering that apartment with Peggy to clear out Steve and Barnes’s things had almost brought him to tears. They might not have much; but Howard could see the love in those three little rooms. While he had been able to hold his tears back, Peggy had broken down, crying softly at Phillips’s betrayal, as she wrapped up Steve’s sketches that Bucky had most likely hung out of pride for his mate’s ability. Her last words to Steve had been a promise to take care of Evie and Colonel Phillips had made a liar of her, deciding that he knew what was in Evelyn Barnes’s best interests.

And now it was Howard, who found himself staring at the wake of Colonel Phillips’s decision in the face, a cold house and a teenager, who should have never been afraid to be herself. This was not the life that Steve or Barnes had went to war to give her. She was supposed to be loved and protected. And just like SHIELD was continuing to fail to bring Steve home, the SSR had failed to provide the best home for her until Steve came home.

Once seated in the kitchen, Howard watched, waiting silently, as Julie moved around the room, grabbing two ceramic mugs from the cabinet over the coffee marker and filling them with the already brewed coffee. After handing one of the mugs to Howard, Julie placed both the sugar and creamer dishes on the table before taking a seat with her own mug in hand. “Now answer my question. How do you know that?”

Though instead of replying, Howard simply reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a battered photograph, sliding it across the table to her. The photo’s paper might have told its age; but Julie could tell that when new, its owner had loved the man and child pictured within its borders. “It’s him,” she whispered as her finger traced the fair haired man in the photo.

Blinking back the tears that threatened to fall, Julie licked her lips and looked back at Howard, her face saying what her mouth wasn’t able to. “His name was Steven Grant Rogers,” Howard explained gently, reaching out to take her hand into his, “and he was your mother.”

“I always thought I was broken, because I never smelled like I was a part of this family,… because I had these memories of a cramped apartment and nights spent cuddled close to this blonde man, who called me Evie,” Julie sobbed brokenly, unable and unwilling to keep her tears at bay any longer. For so long, she had kept her insecurities hidden, buried deep in a place that she rarely allowed her mind to visit, out of fear that if she opened Pandora’s Box, there would be no going back. “Is that my name? Evie?”

With a nod, Howard reached into his suit pocket and handed over a crisp, white handkerchief for her dry her tears with. “Evelyn Rose Barnes,” he replied evenly. “Even while fighting in Europe, you were never far from dads’ minds.”

“Dads as in plural? I don’t understand. Why was my omega dad allowed to go to war?” Julie asked, her tone laced with anger and confusion. What this man was telling her, went against everything she had been taught history class. Omegas were barred from enlisting, yet single omegas could join the nursing corps or an auxiliary unit. So why was a bonded omega with a small child allowed to enlist? It didn’t make any sense.

“It’s a long story.”

Taking a sip of her coffee, and with tears still in her eyes, Evie settled back in her chair and leveled Howard with a look that was every bit determined-Steve with just a little bit of Barnes thrown in for good measure. “Tell me everything.”

And so Howard did.


	5. Chapter 5

_"Sometimes, I think you like getting punched," Bucky quipped as he walked towards Steve._

_"I had him on the ropes," Steve insisted, focused on getting to his feet again. The jerk beta had knocked him down twice, and yet Steve had still gone back for more. Not that he would ever admit it, he was kind of grateful that Bucky had shown up when he had. Otherwise, that beta would have done a number on him, omega or not._

_With a shake of his head, Bucky picked up Steve's fallen enlistment form and read it. "How many times is this?" Bucky asked, glancing to his mate, who at the moment was trying to brush the worst of the dirt from his trousers and hands. "You're from Paramus now? And a beta. You know it's illegal to lie on the enlistment form." Not finished yet, Bucky scoffed lightly and quipped, "And seriously, Jersey?"_

_It was only as he was wiping his mouth with his jacket sleeve that Steve finally looked up and caught sight of Bucky in his uniform. "You get your orders?"_

_"The 107th. Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out to England first time tomorrow," Bucky boasted. To anyone else, Bucky seemed like he was proud to be serving his country, yet Steve knew his mate better than anyone, and sometimes even Bucky himself. And he was worried. Not of war, but of the leaving Steve and Evie behind and unprotected._

_"I should be going."_

_Biting his tongue to keep from saying something he'd regret, Bucky plastered a bright smile on his face and said, "Come on, Stevie. My last night! Let's go home and get you cleaned up."_

_"Why? Where we going?" Steve asked, allowing Bucky to wrap his arm around his shoulder and pull him close as they left the alley._

_"The future," Bucky quipped while handing Steve the folded newspaper he'd been carrying._

_With a raised eyebrow, Steve stopped to open it, gazing at a large advertisement for the World Exposition of Tomorrow._

_> <><>< _

_"Bucky," Steve started but then stopped, allowing the words to die on his lips. It was past Evie's bedtime, and yet Bucky had insisted they take their little girl to the fair. And even if Evie was going to be cranky in the morning, Steve hadn't the heart to deny Bucky his last night with his favorite girl._

_"Yeah, Steve," Bucky mumbled absently, bouncing Evie in his arms as he pointed at random things inside the glass case._

_"Nothing," Steve breathed. Reaching out, he gripped Bucky's hip and pressed close, putting his face almost level with Evie's, making the little girl go cross eye. "Having fun, sweetie?"_

_Dark curls bobbing, Evie grinned, showing her dad two rows of pearly white milk teeth. "Cars!" She exclaimed, throwing her wiggly body towards Steve, knowing that her neither of her dads would let her fall. Catching her under the arms, Steve lifted her from Bucky's hold and cuddled her close, breathing in her familiar scent. Soon she'd be too big for Steve to hold,_

_"A girl after my own heart," Bucky laughed, sending Evie into a fit of giggles. Hiding his face in Evie's curls, Steve smiled, his heart warmed by the sight of his dark haired gypsies enjoying what little time they had left._

_"Daddy!" Evie shrieked again and made grabby motions towards her alpha father, obviously deciding that she much rather be in Bucky's arms. "It's starting."_

_"What is, honey?" Bucky asked, deliberately playing obtuse, even as they began to move towards the main stage._

_"The cars," Evie whined, her little hands reaching out like just her movement alone would propel her dads closer to the stage. While Steve had been getting changed, Bucky had wax poetic to their daughter about all the stuff she'd be able to see at the World Expo, and the one thing that she had latched onto were the cars. Which wasn't surprising considering how much she loved the hand-me toy car she had been given by their upstairs neighbor, Mr. Kirkpatrick._

_Stepping around Bucky, so he was in front of Evie, Steve tapped his daughter on the nose to get her attention, a frown already in forming on his face when her baby blues finally blinked at him. "If you can't behave, Evie, then we go home."_

_"No cars," she mourned, fully understanding what her dad was saying. "Hold me, please."_

_With a smile, Steve took Evie into his arms and let her tuck her face into his neck, knowing exactly what was going to happen. And as he and Bucky watched Howard Stark's presentation, Steve could feel her breathes began to even and slow as she drifted off, just like he knew she would from the moment he heard her whine._

_Evie had always been a good baby, except for when she was tired, a trait that Steve claimed she had gotten from Bucky. When they were younger, Steve had learned never come between Bucky and his sleep, otherwise, it wasn't going to be pretty._

_"She asleep?" Bucky asked close to Steve's ear. At Steve's nod, Bucky held out his arms and waited for Steve to pass her over. His mate might be able to carry Evie while she was awake; but when she was out cold, she was nothing but deadweight._

_After handing over Evie, Steve turned and looked behind him, catching sight of the recruiting poster that had been strategically placed within the Modern Marvels Pavilion. So while his mate's attention was still on Stark's presentation and Evie, he slipped away, deciding to try his luck again._

_> <><>< _

_"Come on. You're kind of missing the point of our date," Bucky groused the moment he tracked Steve down. Not that it had been all that hard finding him, because the minute had turned around and saw the poster, Bucky just knew exactly where he'd find his mate._

_Reaching out, he gripped Steve's shoulder and shoved playfully, knocking the omega slightly off-balance and effectively off the metal platform Steve had been standing on. While Bucky thought the enlistment gimmick was corny, he could see how a man standing in front of a poster that essentially had his face on it could be compelled to enlist._

_Steve turned around and looked at Bucky, taking in the sight of the alpha in his uniform with their daughter asleep in his arms, and said, "You go ahead. I'll catch up with you."_

_"You're really going to do this again?" Bucky demanded, keeping his voice low, so as to not accidently wake Evie._

_"Well, it's a fair. I'm gonna try my luck."_

_Bucky snorted, shaking his head in disbelief at the words coming out of Steve's mouth. "As who, Steve from Ohio? They'll catch you. Or worse, they'll actually take you," Bucky spat, not in anger but out of fear. Fear that Steve was heading down a path that he couldn't come back from. Bucky had assumed that after Evie's birth, Steve would finally make peace with his dynamic; yet that had never become the case. Steve still got into alley brawls and got his ass kicked for his troubles, usually while Evie was tucked away safe and sound with a neighbor._

_"Look, I know you don't think I can do this," Steve retorted._

_"This isn't a back alley, Steve. It's war."_

_Steve rolled his eyes and said, "I know it's a war."_

_"Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs," Bucky countered, voice rising slightly while still being mindful of the 30 pound weight sleeping soundly against his chest._

_"What do you want me to do? Collect scrap metal in my little red wagon?"_

_"Yes. Why not?"_

_Steve shook his head, because Bucky would never get it. He had been born an alpha, so the world was full of nothing but opportunities for him. While biology dedicated that Steve was supposed be content with children and taking care of his mate. "I'm not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky," he replied. "Bucky, come on. There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That's what you don't understand. This isn't about me."_

_"Right," Bucky said with an eye roll. "'Cause you got nothing to prove."_

_Before Steve had the chance to respond, Evie made a small noise of distress and tried to burrow deeper into her dad's chest, rubbing her nose against his uniform. Realizing that Evie was having a nightmare, Bucky rubbed his hand up and down her, doing his best to soothe her troubled slumber. Once she calmed, Bucky looked back at Steve, knowing that there was no changing his mind. Steve was going to do what Steve wanted to do and to hell with the consequences._

_"Don't do anything stupid until I get back."_

_Steve grinned. "How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."_

_With a laugh, Bucky pulled Steve into a hug, savoring the feeling of his mate against him for a few moments before letting him go and stepping back. "You're a punk," he said, winking._

_"Jerk."_

_When Bucky turned and began to walk away, he paused long enough to throw an earnest, "Be careful," over his shoulder._

_"Don't win the war till I get there!" Steve called back._

_Spinning on his heel, Bucky paused at the top of the stairs and saluted Steve, managing to keep ahold of Evie while he did it. It was what he said as he left that brought a smile to Steve’s face. With his attention focused solely on Evie, Bucky looked down and said, "Come on, darling. They're playing our song."_


	6. Chapter 6

“Through here, ma’am.”

The man’s voice cut through the silence of the room, managing to draw each occupant back to the present and away from black thoughts swirling in their heads.

When, hours before, a black SHIELD SVU had parked outside the shawarma joint, Tony (and everyone else really) hadn’t been expecting for the SHIELD lackey to usher them inside the spacious vehicle and whisk them away to SHIELD’s Manhattan digs, yet he had. Which was how the group of possible superheroes found themselves inside SHIELD’s medical wing, watching as a team of highly trained doctors and nurses fought to save one Agent Philip Coulson’s life.

Keeping one eye on the doctor’s movements, Tony Stark turned and watched as an older woman strode through the open door, making a beeline for Rogers, who had staked a claim in front of the large observation window, his hands gripping the window ledge tightly like it was the only way he could stop himself from punching someone or something. Honestly, his actions had surprised Tony, especially after witnessing the level of awkwardness that had passed between Coulson and Rogers earlier on the Helicarrier. While Agent had tried to appear uninfected by the American hero’s presence, Rogers looked as though he wanted to be anywhere but in the same room as Agent. _Very interesting_ , if Tony did say so himself.

As Tony continued to watch and wait to see what the older woman would do, a second woman, much younger than the first, followed a couple minutes behind, holding in her hands two cup trays filled with a selection of coffees and teas, which she placed gently on a nearby table before snagging two cups for herself.

Following a quick check of what Tony assumed was a label, she finally made her way over to Clint Barton. The archer had collapsed into one of the chairs in the corner as soon as they had arrived, and hadn’t spoken a word since. Not even to Romanov, who had at one point gotten out of her own seat to check on the archer, before retreating again after the blonde had made it clear he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, least of all her.

A slight turn of his head allowed Tony to watch both woman as they seemed to move in tandem like a well-oiled machine. So with curious eyes, Tony followed their movements, paying particular attention to the older woman when she finally stopped in front of Rogers. Bringing her hands up, she grasped Rogers’s broad shoulders, forcing him to bend so she could wrap her arms around him in a tight hug. Instead of standing stock still like Tony had expected, Rogers’s arms had shot out and pulled the woman forward, tucking his face in the soft curls of her hair while his hands gripped the back of her blouse in desperation.

Understanding the moment for what it was, Tony turned his head away and looked to Barton’s corner, where the younger woman was seated, her hand entangled in Barton’s as he slowly sipped from one of the paper cups as he starred off into space. Tony didn’t know which was one more heartbreaking, the American hero breaking down or the assassin practically catatonic.

Shaking his head in disgust at Fury’s lies, Tony pushed his body off the wall and after a quick headcount, snagged one of the paper cups and walked over to Banner, dropping into a vacant chair hard enough to jar the other scientist out of his light doze. Peering at Tony over the rim of his glasses, Banner raised a lone eyebrow at Tony before closing his eyes again, seeming to settle back into sleep. Not that Tony blamed the scientist for sleeping, the mass conversation that Banner undertook to become the Hulk used a lot of energy, so any sleep he managed to catch was needed and well-deserved.

After deciding to leave Banner to sleep, Tony settled back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing his arms, and continued to watch Rogers and the older woman. In the time it had taken Tony to move positions, the pair had broken their hug; yet instead of stepping away, the woman had brought her hands up and cupped Rogers’s cheeks, slender thumbs stroking them softly. Tony couldn’t hear what she was saying, but whatever it was had caused Rogers to smile somberly and lean down further, allowing his forehead to rest against hers. He hadn’t gotten a very good look at the woman’s face before she had taken Rogers’s into her arms. Yet, the longer he starred at the back and side of her head, the more he couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew her from somewhere.

“Clint? Nan?”

At the sound of a Brooklyn accent, Tony turned his head and caught sight of the younger woman rising to her feet, pulling Clint along as she went, and walking over to the observation window. From his vantage point, Tony could see that one of the doctors was exiting the operating room, leaving his colleagues to finish. And Tony was proved right because a couple of minutes later, the doctor appeared, causing his fellow occupants to direct their attention towards him.

“What’s the word, Doc?”

If Tony hadn’t been seating, Fury’s voice would have made him jump a mile in the air. _I hate spies,_ Tony thought to himself, as he focused his attention on the doctor waiting to speak.

“I won’t lie to you, Director; Agent Coulson’s chances aren’t good. The next few hours are going to be the deciding factor in whether he lives or dies. So once he’s in a room, I’ll allow two in at a time into the room to say their goodbyes.”

“He’s not going to die,” Clint growled, leveling the doctor with his best glare, which caused the doctor to take a step back. Typically, the doctor was unafraid when staring down a SHIELD agent; yet there was something almost deadly in the eyes of the archer before him. A look he rarely saw; yet then again, Clint Barton had been a mercenary before joining SHIELD.

The doctor nodded and said nothing, understanding that now wasn’t the time to argue with the beta, especially when he knew he’d lose. “I’ll send in a nurse when Agent Coulson is ready for visitors,” he told the room at large before leaving. After all, there was nothing else for him to say and he wasn’t willing to give false hope when he had no hope in the agent’s survival.

With his curiosity perked, Tony watched as Barton released his hold on the young woman’s hand and walked the short distance to the older woman, who had released Steve immediately after the doctor’s arrival. Reaching out, she wrapped the archer in much the same hug she had Rogers, one based on familiarity and love. The sight of the pair almost brought tears to Tony’s eyes,… almost.

So much of Tony’s attention was focused on the scene playing out in from of him, he couldn’t be sure of how much time had actually passed before the arrival of a nurse, caused the pair to break apart.

After clearing her throat, a middle-aged nurse stood at the door to the private waiting room and announced, “I’ll take the first two.”

The set of pairs looks at each other and seemed to be silently urging the each other forward before the youngest member finally said, “Nan, you and Clint go first. Steve and I will wait.”

“No, Sarah,” the older woman denied gently with a shake of her head. “You—,“ she began, before the young beta cut her off.

“He’s your son, Nan. You’ll go first.”

With a look that he knew well from the many times Pepper had given him almost exactly the same one, the older woman replied, “And he’s your dad.”

“Well, true. Steve and I can wait because I know that if given the option, Dad would rather see his mom and husband first. So go. We’ll still be here when you get back.”

“Sarah, I know you—“

“Just go, old woman. Before I make you go,” Sarah urged teasingly, cutting her grandmother off again.

While Agent’s mother might have rolled her eyes, she still did as her granddaughter practically ordered, taking Barton with her as she followed the nurse from the room. It was only after the door has closed before the trio that Rogers turned and addressed the young woman.

“I’m sorry for—“

“Stop right there, Steve. None of this is your fault. Dad has always done what he wanted to. Why do you think he joined SHIELD? If Nan had had it her way, he’d be an accountant instead of a legacy.”

Rogers snorted and shook his head. “She wanted him to be an accountant?”

“Yeah,” Sarah retorted. “Granddad was an accountant, and there was nothing wrong with that.”

“I never said there was,” Rogers countered, matching her defensive attitude with his own. The longer Tony observed the interaction between the small group; the greater his understanding of their connection to each other grew.

“I know you didn’t Steve. The point is, dad’s been chasing after your shadow since he was four years old, and nothing Nan could have said was going to change that,” Sarah explained pointedly, though she made sure to keep her voice soft, adding, “Also, I don’t think losing his dad in Vietnam helped.” Rogers gave a stilted nod and then turned away, observing the post-surgery clean-up.

Deciding to let his curiosity take a backseat, Tony turned to look at Fury, who hadn’t moved since the doctor’s arrival, and asked, “Why’d you lie?”

“You needed a reason to fight like a team, so I gave you one.”

“Was ruining his cards really necessary?” Romanov threw out, not bothering to open to her eyes to stare SHIELD’s director down because her voice said it all.

Giving Romanov a hard stare, Fury grumbled, “I needed proof.”

Romanov shrugged and opened her eyes, meeting Fury’s stare with her own. “He’s going to be pissed when he wakes up.”

Fury shrugged and then following a brief glance in Rogers’s and the girl’s direction, he left.


	7. Chapter 7

"Steve." Bucky repeated through the fog of his mind. Since Zola had strapped him to this table, Bucky had dreamed a thousand times about Steve and their daughter, and every dream ended the same way… him waking to the sound of his own screams, as his body felt like it was being ripped in two. So it was entirely forgivable if he didn’t trust his own mind.

“Steve,” Bucky repeated again, smiling goofily as the Steve look-alike helped him off the table. While the hallucination’s face might have been spot on, its scent differed just slightly from his mate’s scent.

Once Bucky was standing on slightly shaky feet, Steve peered into his mate’s face and said, “I thought you were dead.”

Bucky shook his head and leaned in close, managing to catch a small glimpse of his bite mark on the hallucination’s neck. “I thought you were smaller,” Bucky quipped, giving his mate the once as soon as his muddled brain finally understood what it was seeing. The hallucination wasn’t a hallucination, nor was it anyone else other than his mate.

“Come on,” Steve urged, wrapping his arm around Bucky’s waist and practically dragging him from the laboratory.

As Steve supported Bucky down the hall, leading them back the way he’d originally came, Bucky glanced at Steve and then at the body and asked, “What happened to you?”

“I joined the army,” Steve explained simply, hoping that his quick remark with relieve some of the tension in Bucky’s shoulders.

“Did it hurt?”

Steve shrugged. “A little.”

“Is it permanent?” Bucky asked, his voice betraying his curiosity.

“So far.”

As they made their way through the crumbling factory, the pair had fallen into almost complete silence; each lost in their own thoughts, which funnily enough weren’t so different given the situation they’d found themselves in.

“Captain America!” The German-accented English rang out across the building factory, causing Steve and Bucky to stop, their eyes gazing across the smoke-filled chasm to the two lone figures standing opposite them.

“How exciting! I am a great fan of your films!” Schmidt continued as he handed off his metal container to his companion and walked onto the connecting walkway. “So, Dr. Erskine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but still, impressive.”

The sound of Steve’s boots echoed on the walkway as he surged forward, landing a solid punch to Schmidt’s face. “You’ve got no idea,” he yelled.

“Haven’t I?” Schmidt taunted before throwing his own punch, which Steve blocked with his shield, managing to leave a fist shaped dent in the metal. Not one to be defeated, Schmidt threw a second punch, one that landed Steve flat on his back, and as Schmidt moved forward, Steve’s legs shot out, kicking the German hard in the stomach, knocking him off his feet.

Climbing to their feet, the pair stared at each other as the metal walkway retracted, and as it did, Schmidt brought his hands up and pulled at his skin, exclaiming loudly, “No matter what lies Erskine told you, I you see, I was his greatest success!”

Through still glossy eyes, Bucky glanced first at Schmidt’s blood red skull and then back at Steve, quipping, “You don’t have one of those, do you?”

“You are deluded Captain. You pretend to be a simple soldier, but in reality, you are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind. Unlike you, I embrace it proudly. Without fear!”

“Then how come you’re running?” Steve challenged as the elevator door closed behind Schmidt and Zola, leaving just him and Bucky in the burning factory.

Turning his face away from the ever increasing explosions, Steve caught sight of a doorway far above them. So with that destination in mind, he urged Bucky to his shaky feet. “Come on. Let’s go. Up,” he ordered, keeping one hand on his mate’s shoulder as he steered him towards a metal staircase leading up.

With Steve in the lead, Bucky followed his mate as quickly as his strength would allow, until Steve stopped in front of a metal beam that connected their walkway with the platform opposite. "Let's go. One at a time," Steve told Bucky as he helped his weaken body over the railing.

Most alphas would have scoffed at the idea of allowing their omegas to see them as weak; but that was the beauty of their bond. Neither were huge fans of societal norms, so in this instance, Bucky was happy to let Steve be the stronger one.

Slowly as Bucky began to make his way across the beam, it began to shift before finally giving way, forcing the alpha to jump the remaining few feet. Hooking his arms around the railing, Bucky pulled himself up and over, finally gazing back at Steve with look of despair in his eyes. "Gotta be a rope or something!"

“Just go! Get out of here!” Steve yelled, waving his hands at his alpha.

Slamming his hand against the railing, Bucky screamed back, desperate, “No! Not without you!"

With a murmured “hell,” Steve grabbed the broken piece of railing and pulled, bending the metal to form an opening. So with his mate’s gaze upon him, Steve moved back, taking a running leap across the chasm as the factory exploded below him.

Once the omega was close enough, Bucky’s arm shot out and grabbed him, pulling him over the railing and into his awaiting arms. “I thought I told you not to do anything stupid,” Bucky ground out as he pulled Steve close, pouring his desperation into their first reunion kiss.

Steve, unable to stop his grin, quipped, “Looks like the stupid came back at seeing your ugly mug.” Pulling away from his mate’s warmth, Steve wrapped his hand around Bucky’s bicep and ordered, “Now come on!"

><><><

After Steve had checked on the men, he made his way over to Bucky, who was sitting in front of one of the fires and just staring into the flickering flames. Taking a seat next to him, Steve waited for Bucky to speak. He already knew what was coming.

"You lied," he said evenly, making sure to keep his voice down even though he wanted to yell at Steve for his deceit. "I left you to protect Evie, and she needs you a damn sight more than the army."

_When he had finally returned from the World Expo, Steve had been quiet, undressing in the dark of their bedroom, leaving just his boxers on as he padded over to where Bucky lay. After checking on Evie, Steve gently picked her up and moved her from their bed, laying her down in the small cot they’d found at a second hand store. Though she rarely slept in it, and Steve didn’t blame her one bit for hating it. After all, she had spent the majority of her life sleeping close to her dads’ heartbeats, so what child would possible want to be so far away from such a familiar and soothing sound?_

_And as Steve had readied for bed, Bucky watched it all through hooded eyes, licking his lips when Steve finally lost his boxers, laying his body bare before Bucky’s heated gaze. Tossing the blankets back, Bucky beckoned his mater closer, waiting until Steve had settled across his hip before finally touching his prize._

"I never said that I had been rejected again," Steve shot back, causing Bucky’s mind to return to the present.

A harsh laugh escaped Bucky's battered lips. "Not in so many words," he countered. "Forgive me for assuming that the army actually had use for a 90 lb. asthmatic omega."

"That's not fair."

"Fair! You wanna talk about fair, Stevie. How is this," he ground out, hand motioning up and down Steve's body, "fair to Evie. She's a little girl, who needs her mother."

"Is that all I am to you... an omega? Someone to cook, clean and bare you children while you go off and play soldier."

"God no, Steve. That's not what I meant."

Standing up sharply, Steve squared his shoulders and, with a guarded expression, said, "Glad you ain't dead, Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky watched as his mate walked away, though he still stopped ever now and again to make sure the men were okay. They had 30 mile hike ahead of them with wounded, so the most able-bodied were going to need their strength if they were expected to walk the 30 miles to the SSR's encampment.

"Damn it."

"He's a spitfire, that one."

With a turn of his head, Bucky's eyes landed on the owner of the voice… Dugan of the 69th, the Fighting Irish.

"You can't tell anyone."

"Tell them what? Like I give a damn that he's an omega. That blonde bastard saved my life," Dugan pointed out.

"Thanks, man."

Dugan shrugged. "You're a lucky guy."

"Yeah, I know."

"Then you'd best be apologizing," Dugan advised. Bucky nodded at his assessment and rose, intending to follow Steve, but Dugan had one last thing to say. "How old she is?"

Bucky licked his lips, his eyes going a little misty when he thought of Evie. "Four. She's almost four."

"Good age."

"Yeah," Bucky breathed, eyes finally leaving Steve's retreating figure. "The best," he added wistfully with a glance in Dugan's direction.

Unfortunately for Bucky, Steve wasn't as favorable towards his intention of apologizing. So it wasn't until most of the men had settled down for the night that Bucky finally managed to track Steve down at the edge of their makeshift camp.

Like the rest of the men, Steve had made the best of the hard ground by bundling his jacket under his head to use like a pillow. Bucky walked softly towards Steve's prone figure and kneeled, gazing into the face of his mate. Steve might have fooled anyone else; but Bucky had been sleeping next to his man since he was nineteen, making Bucky an expert in telling a sleeping Steve from a Steve, who was faking it.

Though instead of calling his mate out on it, Bucky hunkered down, stretching his aching body out beside Steve while maintaining a certain amount of distance. While Dugan might've not had an issue with status of their relationship, Bucky didn't want to risk the rest of the men finding out. Some of them might not be so acquiescent to an omega, who overstepped the boundaries society had set in place for his dynamic.

Closing his eyes, Bucky folded his hands across his stomach and tried to imagine the warm weight of Evie across his chest. It may have been months since he had last held the girl, yet Bucky still found the only way to sleep was to remember what it felt like to have her little body pressing down on his chest as her scent, a combination of his and Steve's with something that was uniquely hers, filled his nose.

It was as he fell into a light sleep, Bucky heard Steve start to move beside him and before he knew what was happening, Steve had rolled closer, throwing his arm across Bucky's waist while tucking his face into his neck.

"You're still a jerk," Steve muttered sleepily, breathe hot against Bucky's cooling skin.

"I know, punk. I know," Bucky agreed, a gentle smile pulling at his lips. He pressed his face into Steve's flattened hair, breathing in his mate's new heady scent. It wasn't perfect, but as long as they were together, they'd make it.

><><><

"He was aware of your status," Colonel Phillips stated without preamble, once his corporal had left to get a cup of coffee.

Steve squared his shoulders and rose to his full height, looking the Colonel dead in the face. There was no reason for him to ask for clarification because Steve already knew who and what Phillips was referring to. The night before the procedure, Dr. Erskine had come right and asked what his daughter's name was and Steve had answered honestly, because there was no point in denying it, if the scientist was asking.

"Yes, sir."

"Not only a skinny asthmatic but also an omega, just my luck," Colonel Phillips scoffed with a shake of his head. Giving the pair a ten thousand yard stare, he scratched his forehand and said, "Next you'll be telling me that you've got a kid stateside."

Steve shifted uncomfortably, shooting a side-eye glance at Bucky, who continued to stare straight ahead, waiting silently to be acknowledged. Seeing his mate like this was a jarring to Steve, only because he’d had never seen _Bucky the soldier_.

“Ah, hell,” Phillips sighed, dropping down into his chair. Phillips didn’t give a damn about whether Rogers was an omega or not, not after he’d just single-handedly liberated over four hundred men from a HYDRA facility. What he did care about was that there was a kid stateside, who just might lose both its parents to this war. He didn’t want that on his conscious. “Get the hell out my sight. I’ll deal with both of you later.”

With those words, Steve and Bucky left Phillips, matching pace all the way back to the private tent Steve had been assigned. It was only after the tent flap was closed that Bucky turned and finally looked at Steve, who was puttering around the tent in a vain attempt to look busy. Colonel Phillips’s words had managed to leave both men feeling shaken and vulnerable; a feeling that Steve had never liked in all the years that Bucky had known his mate.

“This body been road tested yet?” Bucky threw out, watching as Steve tensed and replaced the book he’d been holding.

Turning on his heel, Steve gave Bucky a curious eyebrow and repeated, “Road tested?”

“Yeah,” Bucky whispered, crossing to his mate, so his nimble fingers could seek out Steve’s tanned skin. He’d caught glances of the golden, ripped flesh during their 30 mile hike, and as much as he found himself missing his mate’s old body, Bucky couldn’t deny his curiosity when it came to seeing what this serum had done to Steve. “I overhead a couple of guys in the chow line talking about your USO tour. Didya think about me on those lonely nights?”

Steve blushed. Though Bucky wasn't sure if it was because of the question or because Steve was embarrassed that he had. Either way it didn't matter to. All that matter was that while the rest of camp could only lust after Steve from afar, Bucky got to actually touch, taste, and enjoy this perfect human being in front of him.

Resting one hand on Steve's belt, Bucky reached out with the other, pulling his mate in with a kiss, seeming to devour Steve's lips the moment theirs touched. Bucky had barely managed to hold it together during their march back to camp, when all he had wanted to do was spread Steve out on the hard ground and remind himself over and over again that Steve was his. Yet now, away from the prying eyes of 400 fellow soldiers, Bucky could finally ravish what was his and only his.

Not to be out done, Steve gave as good as he got, hands flying to the hem of Bucky's shirt, tugging sharply at it, trying to get it out of his way, so he could run his hands across Bucky's abs.

"Rip it," Bucky murmured while his lips and teeth gently suckled and nibbled on Steve's plump bottom lip.

Knowing that now wasn't the time to argue, Steve followed Bucky's suggestion, body humming with desire as the dirty olive green shirt gave way inch by inch to reveal Bucky's once tanned skin. Dirt and bruises littered his alpha's chest and stomach and when Steve had more time, he definitely planned on cataloguing each and every single one. But later. Right now, all he wanted to do was to feel.

When he finally broke the kiss, Bucky gave Steve his wickedest grin and slowly undid Steve's belt, sliding his hand inside.

"Tease," Steve gasped when Bucky's hand wrap around his cock. After months with just his own, Steve had almost forgotten what Bucky's calloused fingers felt like wrapped around his aching flesh.

"Oh, baby," Bucky practically purred. "It ain't teasing if everyone gets what they want… in the end."

Steve's sharp bark of laughter was cut short by another gasp when Bucky began to languidly stroke his mate's cock. While most alphas wouldn't have given their omega's cock a second thought, Steve found that Bucky wasn't like most alphas. Bucky was of the firm opinion that if had wanted a cockless omega, he would’ve bonded with a female. He loved every bit of Steve's gorgeous anatomy... particularly his cock. It was long and just the right thickness, so that when Bucky wrapped his hand around it, it fit perfectly.

"Like that, Stevie," Bucky goaded while he continued to stroke, drawing short gasps and moans from his mate. He wanted to make Steve come apart in his hand before stripping the blonde and laying him out bare.

Placing both hands on Bucky's shoulders, Steve rolled his hips in time with Bucky, heat slowly pooling in the pit of his stomach. He knew what Bucky was trying to do and he was fully on board with it. While on tour and with only his hand for comfort, Steve had discovered that serum had had an effect on his sex drive, mainly his refractory period.

Where before, one orgasm would have left him feeling tired and unusually sore—no matter how gentle Bucky had been—, which had made for some long and painful irregular heats. So like everything else, the serum had fixed Steve’s heat and made it almost impossible for Steve to find relief, especially when he’d been left to experience his real heat without Bucky’s aide.

"Bastard," Steve groaned through clenched teeth. "Come on. I'm starting to think you're all talk." Bucky grinned at Steve's challenge and sped up, his grip tightening on Steve's cock as his hand moved up and down, thumb pausing every few strokes to collect pre-cum to ease the slide.

Leaning forward, Bucky bit Steve's bottom lip and tugged, urging Steve into a kiss without his hands ever leaving his mate's skin. As they traded kisses back and forth, Bucky felt Steve's breath hitch as the blonde pressed his hips into Bucky's stomach and rubbed. He knew Steve was close, so with one last hard twist, he pulled Steve over the edge, swallowing his mate's moan with his mouth and holding on tight as Steve came apart under his hands.

"How long until round 2?" Bucky asked when Steve finally looked into his face. Bucky might have had only a high school education; but he was no dummy. He knew that whatever they had done to Steve had corrected Steve's sex drive as well. And it turned out he wasn't wrong. Even through the blissed out expression, Bucky could see a hunger deep inside his mate's eyes. A hunger that he was more than happy to sate.

"Five or so," Steve replied, stripping off his ruined leather jacket and dropping it on the dirt floor. Less than a second later, the top of his Captain America uniform followed, finally allowing Bucky to feast his eyes on his mate's new body.

With a lick of his lips, Bucky reached out and ran his fingers down Steve's chest, tracing new muscles that hadn't been there five months ago. Bucky had thought Steve had been beautiful before and now, the whole world knew it. It was only after he had inspected Steve's abs that Bucky turned his focus on Steve's pects, mesmerized by the twitching span of skin and muscle. So with both hands resting on Steve's pects, Bucky leaned forward and pinched his right one while his mouth latched onto the left and sucked, causing a deep groan to vibrant through Steve.

As Bucky continued to suck on Steve's nipples, paying each one special attention, Steve brought his hand up and cradled Bucky's head. "So you were jealous," Steve remarked, pupils dilating as he gazed at Bucky.

Bucky hummed low in his throat and pulled away, rubbing his fingers across Steve's now puffy nipples as he spoke, "I wasn't jealous."

"Sure, you weren't," Steve hissed, his nipples now sensitive due to Bucky's attentions.

While Steve had never gain the ability to fully lactate, he had produced Colostrum like most women and omegas, which meant those first few days had been filled with an oh-so silent war raging between his mate and daughter. A war that Bucky eventually won by default; but only because Steve stopped producing, meaning that Evie’s food source became formula.

Bucky smirked, choosing not to offer further comment. Instead, he removed his hands from Steve's chest and went to work on his own trousers, tugging and pulling at the offending garment. He was burning these and his destroyed shirt the first chance he got. As soon as his combat trousers were down, Bucky kicked them away, leaving himself standing in only his cotton drawers.

Then with a cheeky wink tossed at Steve, Bucky quickly added his underpants into the growing pile of clothes going to the fire. "Ready for inspection, Captain," Bucky cooed, eyelashes fluttering in exaggerated seduction.

"Idiot," Steve murmured fondly before he reached out and pulled Bucky close, running his hand down Bucky's spine and cupping his pale, firm buttocks. For so long, it had been him that Bucky had cradled close, now he finally got to return the favor. Pressing his nose into Bucky's head, he breathed in the scent of smoke, sweat, and a scent that was only Bucky's. A scent that Steve would never get tired of smelling as long as he lived.

Bucky laughed, throwing his head back. "And yet, you love me."

"Til the end of the line," Steve breathed, voice cracking a little when his mind flashed briefly to how close Steve had been to loosing Bucky and never even knowing it. Chance had lead him and the USO tour to Northern Italy at the right time, just like chance had lead him to crossing paths with Dr. Erskine at the World Expo.

"Hey. Get that out of your head," Bucky all but ordered as he brought his hands up to cup Steve's face. "I'm here and Evie is safe," he added vehemently.

The thought of Evie brought a smile to Steve's face. "I have pictures," he remarked, offhandedly.

"Good," Bucky replied, his tone coming off as slightly dismissing, even though that wasn't his intention. "You can show me after we take this new body of yours for a spin."

With a chuckle, Steve shook his head and challenged, "Anytime you're ready, soldier."

Like those were the words he'd been waiting to hear Bucky surged forward and attacked Steve's trousers, quickly divesting his omega of his remaining clothing before pushing him onto the tent's only cot. Steve bounced once then sprawled across the rough wool, arms reaching out for Bucky, silently urging him to join him. Taking the offered invitation, Bucky bent down and spread his body over Steve, resting his elbows on either side of Steve's head.

Although once Steve had Bucky where he wanted him, Steve bent his knees and wrapped his legs around Bucky's waist and rolled, flipping them so that Bucky was the one on his back. Resting his hands on Steve's hips, Bucky grinned up at his omega and bucked, causing Steve to moan softly as their cocks rubbed together. "Oh, don't worry. I remember," he panted.

With a roll of his eyes, Steve grabbed Bucky's hand and tugged at it until Bucky got the message and slipped two fingers into his hole. Biting his lip, Steve stifled his moan as he rolled his hips and silently urged Bucky's fingers to go deeper. It had been far too long since he'd been split wide by his alpha's cock and for once there'd be no risk of Bucky causing him unintended harm. 

"Come on, Buck," Steve ordered, using the tone he'd honed while on stage during the USO tour.

Using his free hand, Bucky slapped Steve's ass and winked, watching in delight as the tips of Steve's ears pinked. "Pushy. Pushy. Pushy," Bucky murmured pointedly, his fingers jabbing and twisting inside Steve with every word, causing the omega to release a series of breathless moans.

Breathe hitching, Steve turned his head and sought out Bucky's hand, pulling it from his body with a groan. Though his displeasure turned out to be short lived, because the moment Bucky's hand was gone, Bucky moved his hands up and gripped Steve's hips, pulling the omega back on his cock, hissing when the hot, tight heat surrounded his flesh.

Steve bit his lip as he slid down and finally bottomed out on Bucky's cock, hips rolling impulsively. While he knew he'd missed Bucky, Steve hadn't realized the full extent until this moment with Bucky gazing hungrily at him and his thick cock buried inside him. "You love it," Steve gasped as he began to rock, thighs twitching as he moved above Bucky, drawing grunts and muted curses from the alpha.

All it took was a few minutes of Steve's slow torture and finally Bucky couldn't take it anymore. So with gritted teeth, Bucky tightened his hold on Steve and pushed up, urging his husband to stop teasing and just get on with it. Slow could come later, right now, he just wanted it quick and dirty, a remainder that he was still alive. That Zola hadn't managed to kill him like all the other poor bastards that had come before him.

With an understanding of what Bucky wanted, Steve quickened his pace, clenching and unclenching around the soft blub of flesh just under the head of Bucky's cock before bottoming out again. "That's it, darling," Bucky praised, voice breaking as he gasped for air, desire rolling through his body. He was so close, he could practically taste it.

And it seemed that Steve did too. Because less than a second later, Steve slide off Bucky's cock and turned away, getting on hands and knees and putting his ass in his alpha's line of vision. Then peering over his shoulder, Steve gave a little wiggle, toned ass jiggling, and whined softly, "Please, Buck."

Not needing to be told twice, Bucky rose to his knees and grabbed Steve's hips, impaling his omega on his cock. A dirty grin settled on Bucky's face at hearing Steve's delicious moans as he settled into a rhythm, thrusting hard and fast into Steve's greedy hole. Steve whimpered under Bucky's attentions, feeling the alpha's knot begin to grow and catch on the rim of Steve's anus every time Bucky pulled back.

This was what Steve had been missing, not that Bucky's smile, charm, and smell weren't amazing; he'd been missing this feeling of completeness. Of knowing that someone had loved and desired him long before the serum had transformed him into a living, breathing Adonis. Sure, Steve hadn't been exactly blind to the looks of desire thrown at him; but knowing that Bucky still wanted him even like this, meant so much more to Steve.

Finally when he couldn't take it anymore, Steve leaned forward and pressed his shoulders into the cot, making it harder for Bucky to withdraw, thus forcing him deeper, ensuring that his rapidly expanding knot slotted perfectly into the thin slit that connected to Steve's uterus. The odds of Steve getting pregnant while not in heat were slim; yet, that didn't mean the omega didn't enjoy the sensation of Bucky's knot splitting him open and filling his womb full of cum.

And as soon as Bucky's cock slipped inside, Steve's muscles clamped down on the hardened flesh, locking the alpha in place as Steve began to clench and unclench around the rest of Bucky's cock. "Evil," Bucky whined, biting his lips red as he threw his head back and jerked his hips one final time, his knot swelling as he came long and hard inside his husband.

Steve grunted sharply when Bucky's knot stopped expanding and finally locked, continuing to spurt cum into Steve, making him feel full and so loved. With Bucky satiated, Steve reached under and gripped his own cock, tugging and twisting the hard flesh. Though while he was so focused on his second orgasm, Steve hadn't realized Bucky had moved his hands until one wrapped itself around Steve's. "Mine," Bucky growled hotly, pulling Steve's hand away and putting it on the bed. "Now lean back," he ordered softly.

Doing as he was ordered, Steve leaned back, a moan falling from his lips as Bucky's knot shifted inside, pushing more cum into his already full womb. Once Steve was sprawled across his lap, Bucky licked at Steve's scent gland while he wrapped his hand around the omega's purpling cock and twisted, pulling Steve's orgasm from his body. Never let it be said that Bucky didn't know how to treat his omega.

As Steve crested, spurting ropes of cum over his stomach and thighs, Bucky tucked his nose into Steve's neck and inhaled, breathing in the scent of a blissed out and content omega. It was a scent that Bucky would never get tired of smelling on Steve.

Steve hummed low in his throat, his head lulling back onto Bucky's shoulder as he blinked sleepily at the patch of skin just behind Bucky's ear. "Missed you," he slurred, drunk from the influx of Bucky's pheromones into his womb.

With a turn of his head, Bucky pressed a chaste kiss to the side of Steve's mouth and breathed, air ghosting across Steve's lips, "Love you, punk."

At hearing those words, Steve brought his hand up and cupped Bucky's neck, fingers stroking the small hairs he found there. Unable to stop himself, Bucky pressed his face into Steve's arm, tongue darting out to taste the sweat coating Steve's skin, and causing a burst of laughter to erupt from Steve's bright pink lips. When he realized the cause of Steve's laughter, Bucky grinned wickedly and rubbed his scruffy cheek back and forth across his mate's skin, earning more bouts of laughter from Steve. Though all too soon, Steve's laughter turned to sleepy moans as his skin became sensitive to Bucky's wicked behavior.

Knowing that it was time to stop, Bucky brought his hand up and gripped Steve's hips, holding Steve's body in place as he carefully maneuvered them onto the bed, so they were both laying on their sides. As he was being shifted, Steve hissed softly as Bucky's knot tugged at his abused muscles. The serum might have given him the ability to heal quickly, but it didn't stand a chance against an alpha's inflated knot continually stretching the ring of muscle. Once they were settled, Bucky petted Steve's flank and whispered nonsensical words into his ear, waiting until he felt Steve's breathe begin to even out before finally closing his eyes and letting sleep drag him under.


	8. Chapter 8

Blinking against the room’s dimness, Sam surveyed the black box theatre, taking in the slightly raised center stage and the rows and rows of chairs surrounding it. However his eyes were quickly drawn to the small group of people, maybe five at most, who were seated in a circle. And it was within this circle, that each person held within their grasp a beautifully carved wooden string instrument… violins, a cello, and even a guitar or two.

“Steve, I know I said I’d follow you anywhere; but I didn’t think it’d lead to a prep school in Brooklyn,” Sam joked, though it wasn’t enough to cause Steve to look at him, because the blonde’s attention was too focused on the haunting music emanating from the group.

“Hush.”

Sam shot Steve a curious glance, and pressed further, “Seriously, man. Why are we here?”

Instead of getting an answer from Steve, one of the group of five chimed in. “If you’re staying, then sit down and pipe down; if not, you gotta go.” Glancing in the direction of the voice, Sam saw that it was a petite brunette, who was at the center of the group. She appeared to a few years older than the rest of the group, so it was safe to assume that she was their teacher and the rest were her students.

Letting Steve take the lead, Sam waited until the blonde super solider had taken a seat before settling in one of his own. Which meant for the next twenty minutes or so, he watched with growing curiosity as the brunette took her students’ through their paces, showing them how to create notes of stunning clarity with their respected instruments.

“Good job, guys,” she praised with a clap of her hands, causing everyone’s head to swizzle in her direction. “Your homework is simple… do all your other homework, eat dinner, and then get some rest.” And then with those words, her students quickly dispersed, each grabbing their belongings from various chairs as they left. Yet at the last moment, their teacher called out, “And stay away from your instruments. You’re in the home stretch, guys, and I don’t want you to get burnt out before your senior recital. Another than that, you’re free. See you tomorrow.”

“Night, Miss S,” one of the kids yelled back as he pushed the door open, keeping it open long enough for the rest of his fellow musicians to tramp through.

However, it was as they left that Sam noticed how some of the students had paused long enough to cast curious glances in his and Steve’s direction. Almost like they weren’t used to seeing someone else in their space, other than a fellow teacher or their own classmates. He brushed it off as soon as the brunette finally addressed them again.

“What’d you think?” She asked as she walked towards Steve, face open with the appearance of being happy to see him. It all changed as soon as she caught sight of his anxious face, which caused her to stop in her tracks. “What’s wrong?”

While Steve might have been good at holding it together in front of Sam, he seemed to lose it when he matched gazes with the young beta’s earnest face. With tears gathering in his eyes, Steve held his hand out and waited for her to take it, tangling their fingers together and holding on tightly when she finally did.

“Hey,” she began softly, jiggling the hand in hers; though her tone rose quickly in volume with every question that followed. Not that Sam blamed her, especially in light of Steve’s almost catatonic state. “What’s happened? Did something happen to Dad or Clint? Answer me, Steve! Tell me what’s happened!?!”

“Hi… Hey,” Sam interjected, causing the brunette to finally acknowledge him. “Sam Wilson. I’m a friend of Steve’s.”

Sam watched her face flush in mild embarrassment. “Hi. Sorry. Sarah Coulson,” she told him, holding out her other hand for him to shake. “Can you answer my questions?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Sam contemplated his options: tell her or not. Steve was the reason they were there, and based on what he’d witnessed so far, Sam was starting to believe that this beta was somehow connected to Barnes. “You’ll have to ask him.”

“Thanks,” she replied, her attention already back on Steve’s tear streaked face. “Steve…?” She began softly again, “I need you to tell me what happened. I can’t help, otherwise.”

And just like that, that one small touch seemed to do the trick. Steve finally looked up and choked out, "He's not dead."

If it had been from anyone else, Sarah wouldn’t have known who they could’ve been referring to, but since it was Steve, it wasn’t too hard to figure out. After he awoke from the ice, Steve had spent those first couple of weeks trying to make sense of this new world he found himself him. A world where his bondmate was gone, and their daughter was a mother and a grandmother. So even now, more than two years later, the guilt of his choices still managed to eat him up inside, even when Evie tried to reassure him and make him see that she didn’t blame him for his decision.

 _Because how could she?_ She had witnessed first-hand as her own bondmate wrestled with his conscious regarding Vietnam… to fight or to stay. Ultimately, he chose to fight and unfortunately lost his life during his second tour, leaving behind not only his young wife but their son as well. For which, Evie never blamed him for; instead she had respected his decision and taught her son to think the world of the father he barely remembered. Just like she taught him with regards to his grandfathers’ choices.

"I don't understand, Steve. You saw him fall."

The expression Steve gave Sarah when he uttered his next words could only be described as being one of utter devastation. “HYDRA.”

While Sarah had never been privy to the ins and outs of SHIELD, she had been raised in the knowledge of her family’s connection to Erskine, Schmidt, and ultimately HYDRA. The old stories had flowed freely from Carter and Stark; stories that her grandmother, in turn, had passed on to her son and his daughter.

“Was that him?” Sarah asked, referring to the news coverage of the destruction of downtown DC. What coverage the Washington news outlets had been able to capture were grainy and in some cases, very spotty; yet Evie and Sarah had glued themselves to the TV, waiting until they’d received word from Steve letting them know that he’d made it through okay.

With Steve’s nod, Sarah felt her knees buckle and it was only because of Sam’s quick actions that she didn’t find herself flat on her backside, instead of in the nearest chair. “Give me a minute, and I’ll get my things,” she told him, still somewhat in the state of shock.

Steve nodded his head again and together they just sat in silence, holding hands until they were both ready to face the one woman, who meant the world to them.

><><><

Having grown up in Harlem, Sam was familiar with New York’s classic brownstone; yet nothing could have prepared him for the look and feel this Brooklyn brownstone. A home frozen in time, to a moment that Sam had only read about in history books. Here and there, Sam glimpsed the small touches of the present; but it was the photos and the furniture that for some reason made his heart ache a little for this woman, whose existence seemed to be somehow tied to Steve Rogers… the Star Spangled Man out of time.

After hanging his jacket up on one of the hooks lining the left wall of the enclosed front entry, Sam followed Steve and Sarah through the open door and into the main hallway, where a set of cherry wood staircases leading up and down were situated on the right.

“Nana?” Sarah called out, leaning her head over the staircase, so she insured her grandmother could hear in what Sam could only presume was the kitchen.

While the majority of her friends had houses and apartments of their own, Sarah was content to continue living in her childhood home. Mainly because she didn’t like the thought of leaving her grandmother to rattle around the large brownstone by herself.

“In here, Sarah,” a voice called back, slightly muffled but still audible through the floors separating them.

Taking that as a sign, Sarah started down the stairs without a backwards glance, like she assumed Steve and Sam would follow without being directed to, which they did. At the bottom of the stairs, Sam surveyed the open concept basement with its large country-style kitchen, family room, and dining room; a dining room that lead out into a good-size garden. A major feat when living in New York City where land and space were at a premium.

Once he rounded the staircase banister, Sam finally spotted the lady of the house, stirring a large steaming pot. Whatever it was, it smelled good from where Sam was standing. But then again, that wasn’t exactly hard considering he hadn’t had a good home-cooked meal since Steve and Natasha had shown up at his garden door. 

“I brought dinner guests,” Sarah sing-songed, making an aborted gesture in their direction as she switched on a vintage-style radio. While it had been designed to resemble a radio from the 1930s and 40s, Sam had a notion that it was most likely one of those 3-in-1 deals, where it had a turntable and CD player as well. As soon as she turned the dial, the voices of Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker flowed from the speakers, filling the kitchen with the sounds of another time.

The older woman glanced away from the stove, her face seeming to become awash in a warm glow the moment she laid eyes on Steve. “Steve,” she greeted, her voice soft and fond. Wiping her hands on a nearby dish towel, she rounded the attached island and walked to Steve, letting the younger man pull her into a brief hug.

“Hello, Evie,” Steve replied, breathing in her scent. Even time had done little to diminish the scent of her childhood; though underneath traces of Bucky, Steve caught the hint of another alpha, one that he could only assume had been Robert’s because Phil carried it as well. After taking his fill, Steve stepped back and motioned to Sam, introducing him. “This is Sam...” he began, adding quickly, “my friend,” at seeing Evie’s questioning gaze.

Holding out her hand, Evie waited for Sam to shake it before saying, “It’s nice to meet you, Sam.”

“You have a lovely home,” Sam said by way of greeting, while his eyes noted her appearance, an obvious source of pride for the woman. Though he couldn’t put an exact date on her age, Sam figured she was probably at least in her late 60s; but it didn’t show because of how she carried herself. Even in well-fitted blue jeans, grey and white running shoes, a cotton blouse cardigan set, Sam knew that despite her casual appearance, she was one well-dressed lady.

With a gracious smile, Evie cast a critical eye around her kitchen and said, “Thank Howard Stark. He bought it for me.” Evie grinned at the startled expression on the young black man’s face. She did love to shock people in regards to her connection to Howard Stark. After all, not many people could have claimed to have been under Stark’s protection for the majority of their adult life.

“Good one,” Sam shot out, flashing a toothy grin at the older woman for her joke.

“She’s not lying,” Sarah interjected, catching Sam’s eye, then continuing her explanation, “Stark bought the house for Nana after Grandpa didn’t come home from Vietnam.”

“Oh,” Sam replied, feeling a little uncomfortable at the direction the conversation had taken. “That was nice of him,” he finished lamely, earning a small chuckle from Evie and Steve, and an eye roll from Sarah.

Catching her lip between her teeth, Evie grinned and then apologized, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable? Steve rarely visits, so I’m guessing you’ll be staying for dinner.”

“Yes,” Steve said definitively as he passed by Evie on the way to the cabinets. No matter where he lived, Evie had told him time and again that this was always going to be his home, as such, Steve had no problem doing some of the work like setting the table for dinner.

><><><

“Sam,” Sarah stated as she rose to her feet. Dinner had turned out to be nice affair of good food and lively discussions. Now that it was over, however, the beta knew that it was time for her and Sam to retreat, allowing Steve the opportunity to speak with his daughter in private.

Climbing to his feet, Sam gave Steve a pat on the back for luck as he left, following Sarah out into the garden. It was only after the door had closed firmly behind the pair that Steve reached out and touched Evie’s hand, squeezing it firmly.

“I’m not getting younger, Steve, and I’ve waited patiently throughout dinner, so just tell me why you’ve come to visit. It must be important; otherwise, you would’ve just phoned,” she told him, gently. “Is this about Sam? Is he your _friend_?” Evie asked, her tone stressing the word friend in such a way that left no room for doubt in Steve’s mind as to what she was saying.

“God no, Evie,” Steve exclaimed forcefully, “it’s nothing like that. Your dad was it for me. No one could ever replace him.”

“Then what is it?” Evie urged before taking a sip of her cooling coffee.

Though her impatient tone caused Steve to smile, it also managed to calm some of the butterflies raging in his stomach. Unlike Sarah, Evie had a personal connection to Bucky, so he knew that he needed to stay strong; instead of becoming the broken mess like he had with Sarah.

When interacting with Evie and Sarah, Steve took different approaches because of how he thought he was supposed to act. With Sarah, he could be that flawed human being that deep down he knew that he was. Yet in the face of Evie, Steve thought he had to be strong and brave, be that father that she should have known.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Steve pulled out the photo he’d been carrying around him since Natasha had handed over the Soviet file on the Winter Soldier. Placing it on the table, he slide it over to Evie, in much the same way Howard had done all those years ago. And when she peered into the face of her father, looking ever so young and smart in his uniform, Evie was eighteen again and back in that Texan kitchen being told that everything she thought she’d known about her life had been lie.

After a couple of minutes of silently gazing at the photo, Evie peered into Steve’s face. “All that’s missing,” she sniffled, wiping a few stray tears from her cheeks, “is Robert. Maybe he’s been working on a rice field in Vietnam with amnesia.”

“Evie…”

Waving away Steve’s cautionary tone, she rose from her chair and carried her coffee mug over to the sink, dumping the remaining liquid. “Spare me the details, Steve, because I don’t think my heart could take it. Just answer me this, are you going after him?”

“Yes.”

With a nod of her head, Evie turned her back and began fiddling with the sink taps, turning the water on for the washing up. Sensing that their conversation concerning Bucky was finished for now, Steve got to his feet and joined her, snagging a dish towel as he went. There was just certain things that Evie still did, even in the face of dishwashers. Sure, she was content with a machine washing and drying her cups and plates; but when it came to her good cookware, only good old-fashion elbow grease was going to do the trick.


	9. Chapter 9

**_June 2014_ **

“Dad… Dad… Dad!” Sarah repeated then finally exclaimed, in an effort to get her dad’s attention. Most people wouldn’t it of him, but when Agent Phil Coulson started one of his guilt laments, there was no stopping him. Apparently the years he’d spent as an altar boy had filled him with more Catholic guilt than Sarah sometimes thought possible. “It’s all fine. These things happen—“

“Yes, I know, it’s not every day that a not-so secret spy organization finds out that their oldest enemy had been slowly growing in their midst. 

“Hey! That’s not nice old man.”

“Itching every closer to fifty classifies you as old, well… and your boy toy, of course.”

Sarah laughed. “Yes, please tell my amazingly awesome stepdad that I called him a boy toy.”

“Seriously though, SHIELD needs you more than I need you at my SOB recital. So call your husband, check on him and Nana in Normandy, and I’ll call you next week.”

“Okay. Got it. Love you, too. Bye,” Sarah said into the phone, effectively ending the call. Tucking her phone into the front pocket of her jeans, Sarah climbed the last couple of steps of her Nana’s brownstone two at time, bone-weary and counting the days until school resumed.

Summer vacation was usually the time that Sarah loved the most, because it meant no students—not that she didn’t enjoy her students—, no staff meetings, and evenings free of lesson planning. Though instead of hours spent reading or practicing her cello, Sarah found herself worrying about her family, especially Steve. While the body of James Barnes might have been alive and mostly whole, it didn’t mean that his spirit still was, so in Sarah’s mind, Steve was chasing a ghost. A ghost that he’d probably never catch.

Jiggling the doorknob, Sarah muttered under her breath as she fought with the brownstone’s front door. With the door being original to the house, or at least original to the time when Stark’s purchase, it had a habit of sticking in the summer and becoming drafty in the winter, thanks to the mahogany wood swelling and shrinking due to the outside temperature. The minutes ticked by before the door finally gave, practically dumping Sarah into the front entry room of the brownstone.

As she continued to mutter obscenities about old doors and the old buildings they hung in, Sarah straightened her spine and grabbed her bag from where it dropped, closing the door behind her with a firm backwards kick. After leaving her keys on the console table, Sarah trudged silently into her home, only stopping long enough to set the alarm.

With the alarm set, Sarah continued further into the house, walking pass the double doors of the front parlor and into what once would’ve been considered the middle parlor, where she tossed her bag into one of the overstuffed chairs. While it wasn’t a huge room, especially when the staircase took up the whole right wall, it had always held first place in her affections as being her favorite room in the house. A truth that Nana asserted had everything to do with all the hours Sarah had spent as a child learning to play the cello, and one that Sarah wasn’t inclined to disagree with.

Rolling her neck and shrugging her shoulders, Sarah tried to relieve some of the tension in her muscles while she debated which of her two options she wanted to do more: eat or sleep. As she silently weighed her options, Sarah slowly turned in a circle, eyes drifting across the photos and the painted images adorning the cream and beige striped wallpaper. Though it was her gaze came to rest on the series of frames lining the staircase leading up, she froze, eyes flickering from frame to frame as she mentally counted them again and again, before finally concluding that one was definitely missing.

Sarah rolled her bottom lip through her teeth and racked her brain over where the frame and its content could have possibly gone. For as long as Sarah remembered, those frames had lined the staircase, standing as a silent, yet loving, shrine to the men, who were Nana’s fathers. A shrine that Sarah had been taught at a very young age to never touch. While the Smithsonian had received some items belonging to Captain America and the Howling Commandos, Peggy Carter and Howard Stark had ensured that Evie received everything of value—sentimental or monetary—belonging to Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. A gift that Evie treasured as she began to rediscover her childhood with these men.

Deciding to get a closer look, Sarah jogged up the stairs and then stopped, peering at the each of the remaining sketches while she searched her brain for even a memory of the shrine. It might have been comical if it also wasn’t so sad that given the number of times she’d passed this wall that when she actually needed the information, her brain failed to recall it. And it was as her eyes made their 10th pass that an inkling finally clicked within her mind, whoever had taken the sketch had rearrange the remaining ones to make it look like one hadn’t been taken.

 _Very clever_ , Sarah thought as she reached out to correct their order; an order that Nana had been very particular about. After a couple of minutes of quiet shuffling, Sarah finally had them all back in their proper places, leaving a blank hole near the center where the missing sketch had once hung.

While Steve’s abilities would never be the likes of Rembrandt’s etchings or Da Vinci’s sketches, there was still a beautiful and engaging quality about them, especially the one that had been taken. To Sarah’s untrained eye, it had resembled a character study; however instead of being on one specific individual, Steve had drawn a series of images of him and Evie… dad and daughter, light and dark. It had always been her Nana’s favorite because it was one of two images Evie had of her dad before the serum, before Steve Rogers became Captain America.

With a shake of her head, Sarah brought her hands to her hips and then sighed. “What to do? What to do?” She wondered out loud as she continued to stare at the empty spot on the wall.

On the one hand, while she didn’t have to worry about incurring the wrath of her gentle grandmother, just yet (not, like she had when she _borrowed_ Bucky’s sketch), she knew how much she needed to figure out where the sketch went before her grandmother’s return. After all, her grandmother could be one scary lady when she wanted to be; a trait she’d apparently inherited from both her fathers.

With a shrug of her shoulders, Sarah retreated back down the stairs, ultimately deciding to leave the sketches for now. It would be another month or so before Clint and Nana were stateside again, so Sarah had time and just maybe her _uninvited guest_ would make another appearance.

><><><

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sarah groused as she made her way up the stairs to her bedroom, only stopping long enough to check on the sketches. The sketches that had been slowly dwindling until only four of the original ten sketches remained. Whoever’d been breaking in, without tripping the security system, had skills; skills that left Sarah feeling equally impressed and terrified. Terrified to the point that she was tempted to stay with a friend, and yet, she stayed because there something about her guest that compelled her too. 

As she continued up the stairs, Sarah found herself tapping out a rhythm on the barrister, partly in frustration, partly because SOB’s newest recital piece was firmly lodged in her mind. At the top of the second floor stairs, Sarah paused for a few second, glancing into her grandmother’s open bedroom before continuing her journey to the third floor, where her own bedroom was located. Though when she repeated the glance on her left, Sarah froze, her eyes widening at the sight of seeing someone fast asleep through the doorway of her dad’s room.

Creeping down the hall, Sarah slowly itched her way towards her dad’s room, all while taking care to skirt the floorboards that she knew squeaked; after all, she had no desire to wake her sleeping guest just yet. Once she was within a few feet of the open doorway, Sarah stopped and gazed at the figure sprawled peacefully across the rumpled bedding. His hair might have been longer, the lines around his eyes and mouth deeper; but as Sarah peered into his sleeping face, she saw Bucky Barnes… Steve’s alpha, Nana’s daddy, and the missing piece of their little family.

“Didn’t anyone tell you that it’s rude to stare?”

While the unexpected sound of his voice managed to startle her, the roughness of his Brooklyn drawl gave her hope that Bucky Barnes was still alive. “Didn’t anyone tell that it’s rude to break into another people’s homes?”

Pushing his body up, Bucky reclined against the headboard and shrugged, leveling his gaze at the young brunette in front on him. Even from this distance, he could smell her; a scent that played with his memories… forcing them to the surface in much the same that the Captain America exhibit had; however, this time it was different. Instead of the memories of a war long over, his mind was assaulted with images of a giggling girl with dark brown hair and a petite blonde, whose blue eyes and fierce determination Bucky had fallen in love with so long ago.

“Evie…,” he murmured with such a look of utter loss that it made Sarah’s heart ache for the man.

With a gentle shake of her head, Sarah passed over the room’s threshold, stopping a foot or so from the edge of the bed, and said, “She’s in Normandy with my stepdad.

Bucky nodded his head in supposed understanding and then looked away, gazing out of the window as he uttered his next words. “Can I stay?”

“Of course,” Sarah smiled, eyes watering as she spoke. “As long as you like.” Though when no response from Bucky came, Sarah backed out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her. All he needed was time, meaning that Sarah would have to wait until he was ready to join the rest of the world again.

><><><

_Pushing the front door open, Bucky peered through the darkened front room and shivered as a blast of warm air meet his cold skin. He hated winter because it always had the ability to remind him that he was failing Steve as his alpha. His first failure was his inability to control his own desires during Steve’s heat, resulting in their daughter—who he loved more than life and would never regret—and the second because he never seemed to find enough day work at the docks to keep Steve and Evie warm and feed during the winter months._

_So with an almost inaudible sigh, Bucky trudged into the apartment, closing the squeaky door as softly as possible before pushing the rolled fabric back into place in front of the door. It was the dumbest thing Bucky had ever seen; but after their neighbor Mrs. Levine had told Steve it was good way to help keep the cold out, and surprisingly enough, it actually worked. Treading softly, Bucky peered into the tiny back room that was squeezed between the kitchen and the apartment’s doorway, only to found it empty.  Like he had expected to._

_Coming home late in the evening to find Steve not in their bedroom was normal, especially during the winter months when the days were short and the nights cold. Unlike in the summer, where they and the rest of their neighbors could be found spread out on their fire escapes, Steve tended to spend as much of the morning with Evie in the front room where the apartment’s only window could be found before retreating into their kitchen with its coal-fire stove._

_Due to their apartment being an Old Law tenement, the space was small and not as airy as Bucky would have liked, even though a previous landlord had cut large windows into the rooms’ partitions to allow for the flow of light from the living room to the back room. Nevertheless, it was cheap and he could afford it on his day wages alone, so there shouldn’t have been any need for Steve to take in paid piecework. Though, it never failed that sometimes Bucky would come home from the docks to find Evie sitting in her too small wicker basket and Steve looming over their lone table as he meticulously painted vibrant colors into a poster already inked in thin black lines._

_While Bucky thought Steve was an amazing artist, the Federal Art Project hadn’t held the same opinion about his artistic ability. Then again, they were offended by the mere idea of a bonded omega, who thought he should be allowed to work outside the home. Because after all, every omega knew their first duty was to take care of their alpha and their home. Luckily for Steve, he had made a couple of friends during his short time at art college, who were willing to pay him a couple of dollars in exchange for simple color work on their government funded prints and posters._

_After shrugging off his coat and hanging it on the wall peg, Bucky flipped on the small lamp that Steve kept on a small table next to their coal-fired stove. With the lamp casting a soft glow over the kitchen, Bucky couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across his face when his eyes landed upon Steve, who was cuddled with their daughter on the small bed they kept next to the stove for the nights when the cold got too much for Steve and Bucky wasn’t enough to keep him warm._

_In three short steps, he crossed from the door to the bed and leaned down, resting his left hand on the wool blanket as he swept his right hand across Steve’s forehead, brushing his mate’s bangs away from his face. Once his mere presence would’ve been enough to awake Steve; yet, the strain of Evie’s birth had left its mark on Steve, slowing his recovery past the point of what the doctor had considered normal for an omega with an already frail constitution. So he still tired easily during the day, even with Bucky taking the nightshifts in order to give Steve the chance to sleep undisturbed._

_As he continued to run his fingers through Steve’s messy bedhead, Bucky leaned back on his heels and silently debated the logistics on moving both Evie and Steve into the bedroom. While he could have very easily lifted both of them into his arms, he didn’t want to risk Evie accidently falling. After a few minutes and with a decision firmly in his mind, Bucky tugged the wool blanket down, making sure that only Steve was exposed to the cool air, and then slipped his hands under Steve’s legs and chest, lifting his mate into his arms. While he was still kneeling on the floor with Steve in his arms, Bucky gently pushed the now empty pillow into Evie’s side, effectively trapping the little girl next to the wall until he could came back and take her to bed._

_With Steve was settled in his arms, Bucky slowly rose to his feet, hugging his mate’s small frame close as he crossed to their bedroom. It was as he reached their room that Steve finally began to stir, mumbling incoherent words into Bucky’s black vest. The sound of Steve’s sleep-idled words never failed to make Bucky smile, especially after a long day of backbreaking work on the docks, where most of it was spent having to listened to other alphas and a couple of betas taunt him about his choice of mate._

_From birth, everyone knew that alphas were supposed to bond with omegas that would give them the best possible offspring, regardless of how either felt about the other. Yet in spite of societal pressure, Bucky had chosen Steve because from the moment he had saved Steve from getting his ass kicked by the neighborhood bullies, Bucky just knew that Steve was it for him and to hell with their dynamic compatibility._

_After tucking Steve under what appeared to be a mountain of blankets, Bucky grabbed the quilt—a gift from their neighbor Mr. Votto following Evie’s birth—from the chest beside their bed and spread it out, smoothing its edges down before returning to the kitchen to get their daughter, who he deposited into the centered of the bed (next to Steve), so he could use both hands to undress._

_Goosebumps appeared on Bucky’s arms and legs as he quickly shucked his work clothes in favor of his soft, striped cotton flannel pajamas. While they weren’t the best pajamas (construction-wise), they were Bucky’s favorite because they were the first piece of clothing that Steve had managed to sew. Deciding to leave his socks on, Bucky slipped under the blankets and lifted Evie, placing her on his chest, so she wouldn’t accidently be squished during the night. Evie breathed what sounded like a sigh the minute her head came to rest on her daddy’s chest, seeming to take comfort from the steady beat of his heart._

_So with a kiss to her now dark curls, Bucky placed one hand on her back and stretched his other out across the distance between him and Steve, and then waited. Because without fail, as soon as his wrist brushed Steve’s shoulder, the smaller man rolled closer, chasing Bucky’s warmth until his chest was pressed right up against Bucky’s side and his leg was thrown over Bucky’s own._

_In his waking hours, Steve was fiercely independent, always trying to prove that he was more than just a frail omega. Yet night brought out a different Steve, one who craved his mate’s touch and wanted very much to crawl into Bucky’s skin and never leave. Chuckling softly, Bucky crooked his elbow and cradled Steve’s head to his shoulder as he began to drift off into slumber, soothed by the quiet breathes of his mate and daughter._

><><><

Over the course of the next few weeks, Sarah saw very little of her houseguest, though she couldn’t really blame him for his reclusive behavior. While her scent might have been similar, Sarah understood that to Bucky, she wasn’t Evie or in way shape and form Steve, so his instincts were telling him to trust while still remaining wary of her.

“Bucky,” Sarah called out while delivering a sharp knock on the closed bedroom, “I’m leaving your clothes and some dinner for you.”

After saying her piece, Sarah dropped a basket of clean, folded laundry on the floor and laid a covered plate of food beside, only waiting a couple of seconds before turning and walking away, taking the stairs up to her room. She had plans to spend the night out dancing with friends, and Sarah didn’t want to be late. Plus her leaving for the night had another purpose, it allowed Bucky the chance to come out his room and explore the house more, at least while the sun was still low in the sky. He thought she didn't know, but Sarah had heard him, on more than one occasion, wondering the halls of the house late at night.

Once upstairs, Sarah opened her closet and pulled out her favorite dress, a little red and black polka-dotted number that could’ve been found in any Sears catalog of 40s. After kicking off her jeans, Sarah raffled in the top drawer of her dresser and pulled out her garter belt, wrapping the cotton and satin around her waist and hooking it closed. With her garter in place, Sarah picked up her seamed nude stockings from the bed and slowly slid them on, taking care not to sag them.

It was only after her seams of her stockings were straight that Sarah tugged off her shirt, dropping it on the floor, and slipped her dress over her head, smoothing down its A-line skirt before doing up the matching fabric belt and buttoning the V-neckline. Now dressed, save for her black heeled oxfords with lace ribbons, Sarah turned her focus to her hair and make-up, artfully crafting a look that would’ve made Peggy Carter proud. Then with a playful wink at her mirror self, Sarah took a step back and turned, grabbing her small clutch from the bottom of her bed as she slid her stocking feet into her shoes.

After catching a glance of her alarm clock, Sarah opened her door and then flicked off her bedroom light, before heading back down the stairs. Though once on the second floor again, Sarah paused and knocked on Bucky’s door. “I’m headed out. If you need anything, my number’s by the phone in the kitchen. I should be home by midnight or so. Have a goodnight, Bucky.”

Not bothering to wait for an answer that’d never come, Sarah left for the evening, making sure to lock up tightly for the night. Though it wasn’t like Sarah was all that worried about Bucky because if someone broke in, she was certain the former assassin would be able to defend himself in case of an attack.

Later as Sarah dragged her tired feet up the front stairs, she silently berated herself for staying out so late. She had told Bucky midnight and her phone had just gone two when she finally stumbled out of the taxi. Normally, Sarah was good about being home when she said she would be; if for no other reason than not wanting to make her Nana worry. It was one lesson Sarah had learned while in high school, and she had desire to repeat the lesson.

Pushing open the front door, Sarah trudged into the house, pausing only long enough to kick her shoes off before moving into the front parlor; though Bucky’s presence in front of the stairs caused her stop in her tracks.

“Oh hey,” Sarah exclaimed, startled by the man's presence outside his temporary bedroom, a bedroom that in some cases was still a shrine to her dad's childhood obsession with Captain America. "Everything okay, Bucky. I didn't wake you did I?" Sarah giggled a little at the end for no other reason than she was slightly tipsy from having a one to many Manhattans.

Yet instead of a reply, Bucky turned and leveled a cold stare, a stare that made Sarah’s heart freeze because she knew those eyes could only belong to the Winter Soldier. So taking great care to keep still, Sarah waited and silently observed the assassin, praying all the while that nothing terrible would happen… that he’d see her as being a non-threatening presence. Unfortunately, it didn’t happen like she had hoped because before she had a chance to react, the Winter Soldier had her neck in a vice-grip, gripping firmly as he stared coldly into her face.

“какова моя миссия”

“I don’t understand,” Sarah whispered, making sure not to struggle against his hold, even as her feet dangled a good foot off the ground and her fingers inched to claw against the cold steel of his metal arm.

“какова моя миссия”

“Please, Bucky, let me go. I don’t understand,” she choked out as her tears began to pool in her eyes, spilling over unchecked across her flushed cheeks.

Though just when it seemed like he’d continue to gaze placidly into her fearful eyes, he came back to himself, blinking rapidly into the purpling face of his great-granddaughter. “S-Sar-ah,” he murmured.

"G-gently," she wheezed out, waiting for the moment when her feet retouch the floor.

After returning her to the floor, Bucky bit his bottom lip and stepped away, clasping his arms around his body like he was trying to shield himself from Sarah’s impending hurt, anger, and most importantly fear. Instead of retreating in fear, like Bucky had expected, Sarah surged forward and wrapped her arms tightly around Bucky’s chest, burying her face in his chest. A move that was unexpected, yet not unwanted by the former assassin. Seeing it for what it was, Bucky bent his head and nosed her hair, breathing in her scent along with a faint whiff of alcohol.

As he stood there holding her, Bucky realized that Sarah was a lot braver than he’d originally given her credit because of instead of running, Sarah sought comfort from the person, who had caused her harm. “It’s time to call Steve,” Bucky admitted quietly, and as he uttered those words, he felt Sarah’s head bob underneath his chin and mouth. Keeping his metal arm by his side, Bucky brought his flesh hand up, slowly running it up and down Sarah’s back as her tears began to soak through his t-shirt, dampening his skin.

He’d never been able to handle Evie’s crying because it always had a way of making him feel like a rotten father for not being able to comfort her. And it seemed like now, even decades later, that it wasn’t just Evie but all Barnes women that had that effect on him, because somewhere in the corner of his fuzzy memories, he was certain he’d felt this same feeling when seeing another little girl cry. Yet that time, he hadn’t been that much older than her.


	10. Epilogue

**_August 2016_ **

“Traitor.”

Tipping her head back over the seatback, Sarah peered into the scowling face of her great-grandfather and smirked. “And you’re just mad because your team picked up stakes and moved to California while you were sleeping.”

“That was a good movie. Sandra Bullock was great in it,” Steve remarked off-handedly as he straightened his baseball cap and surveyed the rapidly filling stadium. It was a beautiful August afternoon in the Bronx and Steve was going to enjoy it with his mate and daughter by his side while his grandson and his family were just one row in front.

“Wilson needs to stop giving you suggestions,” Bucky replied while making a face. Every time he turned around, Sam had another movie suggestion for Steve to watch, and so far, Bucky had been forced to watch one too many rom-coms about strong independent omegas, who turned goo-goo eyed and simpering the minute their _mate_ arrived to save them from some inane situation.

Bucky narrowed his eyes and leveled Sarah with his best glare. A glare that one more than one occasion made his enemies fearful for their lives. “Take the hat off, Sarah Margaret.”

Yet Sarah just rolled her eyes and said, “Really? We’re going there....”

“Sarah, please just humor him,” Evie advised, trying to head an argument off at the pass. As much as she loved them, sometimes Evie felt like she was dealing with two siblings instead of a grandfather and a grandchild when it came to Bucky’s and Sarah’s behavior.

“Evie,” Bucky drawled as he gave Evie a look of reproach.

Holding her hands up, Evie shook her head. She’d been dealing with Sarah’s stubbornness all of the girl’s life, so Evie knew when and how to pick to her fights. “Sorry, but I know there is no changing that girl’s mind.”

“Since when do Barneses like the Yankees?”

Sarah turned in her chair, gazing into her great-grandfathers’ faces, and calmly explained, “Since one dated their short-stop in high school, subsequently had her heart broken by said short-stop her freshman year of college, and rekindled their friendship in the wake of his chemically dissolved bond.”

“I read about that. It doesn’t sound all that pleasant,” Steve remarked, unable to stop the shudder that passed through his body. The idea of physically removing his connection to Bucky scared Steve, and while he respected a person’s right to do as they wished, it just seemed so unnatural.

Bonds were meant to last a person’s lifetime and beyond; not something that only lasted a few years before both partners decided to up and quit. Maybe that was the difference between his generation and Sarah’s because no matter what happened or how bad it got, a bonded couple stayed together. And Steve had seen and heard how bad it was for some bond pairs.

“It’s not meant to be; it should be the last result if a bond can’t be salvaged,” Phil chimed in while turning in his own chair in hopes of catching sight of Clint, who had gone off by himself to get their food.  The minute the idea of food had been mentioned, Clint had jumped up from his seat, taken orders, and wondered off in search of food for everyone.

“How did he break your heart because I know I’m a little late but I’m still justified for wanting to beat the shit of this guy?” Bucky asked, cracking his fist in a menacing manner.

Shaking her head, Sarah chose not to comment on Bucky’s overprotective behavior, and said, “He met an omega during the beginning stages of her heat, they accidently became bonded, and she fell pregnant. So he did the right thing by her and stayed… two kids and four years later, their bond is no more.”

“How can you be so calm about this?” Steve asked curiously.

Sarah shrugged and ventured, “A perk of being a beta, I guess."

"Alright, who wants food and slightly watered down beer,” Clint announced as he bounded down the stadium steps towards the Barnes/Coulson family.

“Hand it over, Barton,” Bucky replied, standing up to take some of the food off Clint’s hands.

“Hold your horses, Barnes, let me serve the ladies first,” Clint griped, even as he handed Evie’s food to Bucky, so he could pass it to her. “Evelyn, there’s your steak sandwich and lemonade.” Before giving Sarah hers. “Sarah, your fries and Guinness.”

“Thanks Clint,” the beta chirped, already pulling a couple of fries from her cup as she watched Clint finish handing out the food before dropping into the vacant chair on the other side of Phil.

“Do you think we could get Stark to buy the Dodgers and bring them home?” Bucky wondered out loud, once everyone was seated and happily digging into their food.

“I don’t see why not.”

Reaching forward, Bucky clapped his grandson on the shoulder and said, “Phil, you’re my new favorite.”

“Hey!”

“He said I was his new favorite, not that he was mine,” Phil retorted with a fond shake of his head and an eye roll. While Clint could be overdramatic about the smallest things, he was also very easy to placate too.

“Oh, well okay then.”

“We aren’t getting Tony to buy the Dodgers,” Steve said in his Captain American voice, knowing that he needed to be the voice of reason in his family. “Even though he probably would just for kicks,”

“Too much like his old man that’s for sure,” Bucky remarked.

Evie hummed. “In some ways, in others… not so much,” she replied cryptically as her mind briefly compared the billionaire genius she had meet a few times with the father she had spent most of her adult life working for. There was no real comparison for Evie, Tony Stark was nothing like Howard Stark and it had everything to do with not being haunted by the ghosts of those he failed at bringing home to her.

“Alright, no more depressing thoughts,” Clint exclaimed with a clap of his hands. “So who we rooting for?”

“Dodgers,” Steve, Bucky, Phil, and Evie replied simultaneously.

Rolling her eyes, Sarah sighed, and then looked around the stadium at the number of Yankee fans already in their seats. “At least I’m not outnumbered,” she quipped.

“Still a traitor, darling,” Bucky retorted with a wink.

“And yet, your team is the one that left Brooklyn,” Sarah sing-songed, grinning madly at her great-grandfather.

“So—“ Bucky began, stopping as soon as a voice boomed from the loud speaker.

_“Please stand for the National Anthem.”_

As the opening bars of the National Anthem began, the whole atmosphere seemed to change because Bucky shot out of his chair and pushed his way through the last stragglers, disappearing at the top of the stairs. With concerned eyes, Steve rose to his feet and dropped a fleeting touch on Evie’s shoulder before he jogged up the stairs, hoping to catch his husband before he disappeared into the crowded concourse.

Once at the top of the stairs, Steve stopped and scanned the concourse for any sign of which direction might have disappeared in. and it’s only when he caught a glimpse of the back of a throwback Brooklyn Dodger jersey that Steve turned left and followed. Unlike the rest of the stadium, who were dressed in mixture of LA Dodgers and New York Yankee apparel, Phil had combed the internet for a company that sold reproductions of original Brooklyn jerseys from the 1940s. A gesture that had touched both men deeply, especially when Sarah had showed up proudly wearing her New York Yankees baseball tee.

Knowing to keep his distance, Steve followed Bucky until he saw him finally stop and bow his head against the concrete wall of the stadium concourse. So taking that as his queue, Steve walked closer and paused, reaching out and placing his hand on his mate’s shoulder. “Buck?”

“I can’t do this, Steve,” Bucky admitted brokenly, speaking his words to the concrete because he couldn’t bear to look the blonde in the eye.

Steve had always been a good man, before the ice and even after it; yet Bucky would never been able to hold that claim. While their family had been able to forgive and excuse his actions as those of the Winter Soldier, Bucky couldn’t let go of the guilt he felt when faced with how many people died at his hand. Because for him, he and the Winter Soldier were the same person, so the Soldier’s crimes were his crimes. No matter how many times Steve told him that train of thought was absolute bullshit.

With an inaudible sigh, Steve curled his fingers around Bucky’s shoulder, gripping the fabric underneath his hand, and tugged, forcing the brunette to turn around. Instead of breaking free, like they both knew he could, Bucky followed Steve’s urging, though once facing his lover he refused to lift his eyes to Steve’s face. Bucky had an idea of what he’d find staring back at him, and he had no desire to see the kicked puppy expression that Steve was expert at giving to his friends and enemies.

“Come here,” Steve murmured, drawing the brunette forward and wrapping his arms around him, effectively pressing Bucky’s face into Steve’s neck. “I love you, Buck,” he whispered fiercely, adding, “We love you and nothing going to change that.”

A huff of air caressed Steve’s neck, tickling a couple of hairs at the base of his neck. “I know, punk. But that doesn’t change what my brain thinks.”

“Then you need to stop listening to your brain about this and just listen to me.”

Drawing away from Steve’s embrace, Bucky peered into the blonde’s face and quirked an eyebrow, silently challenging Steve to prove it. Steve grinned at Bucky and leaned forward, dropping at chaste kiss on his husband’s lips, a kiss that Bucky was eager to deeper. Yet, a quick nip of Steve’s teeth on his bottom lip, caused him to stop and pull back, peering once again into his husband’s face.

“We aren’t startin’ anything, we can’t finish now,” Steve told him pointedly in a tone that Bucky knew so well. It was the same tone Bucky had heard a few times when Evie had been a baby, and it meant that if they could help it, then there was no way they were going to disappoint their little girl. They had already missed her childhood, so there was no way they were going to miss any of the time they might have left with her.

“Okay, jerk,” Bucky agreed, causing Steve to chuckle lightly. “Let’s go watch those traitorous Dodgers slay the Yankees.”

“Traitorous, huh?”

Bucky made a what-can-you-do face while shrugging his good shoulder. “Sarah, might have a good point. They sold out, Stevie and left us for the Californian heat. Who does that?”

“Maybe we should ask Stark to buy it,” Steve laughingly suggested.

“Really?” Bucky asked, voice full hope as he gazed at Steve with loving eyes.

Knocking his shoulder into Bucky’s metal one, Steve moved his hand down and tangled it with Bucky’s, pressing his palm against the cool metal. “Let’s go,” he said while tugging Bucky along. “They’ll going to wonder where we went and Phil already thinks we are slowly corrupting Sarah.”

“She the corrupting one, her and her 21st century ways,” Bucky pointed out, jokingly.

Steve hummed and grinned toothily. “It’s not all bad, is it?”

“The foods better that’s for sure,” Bucky admitted.

“Just the food?” Steve asked, obviously fishing for something, if the glint in his eye was anything to go by. And Bucky definitely wasn’t falling for it.

Tapping his free hand against his chin, Bucky pretended to rack his brain for a couple of seconds then said, “Yup, just the food.”

With a playful growl, Steve knocked into Bucky, which earned them more than a few questioning glances from various strangers in the crowd. Casting a quick look around them, Bucky turned the tables on Steve; this time pulling Steve along back towards their seats. The National Anthem should be over by now and Bucky definitely wanted to be in his seat for the opening pitch. Also, there was no point in letting the food Clint had bought go to waste.

When the pair finally reached their seats, Evie smiled at the sight of them and said, “We were wondering if we’d have to send a search party out for you.”

“I nominated Phil,” Clint mumbled, unhelpfully, around a mouth full of fries that he liberated from Phil when his husband wasn’t looking. Seeing Clint’s half eaten food, Sarah made a face and leaned over her dad to smack him on the shoulder, while giving him a chastising look that she could have only learned from Evie.

Sticking his tongue out at her, Clint went back to his inhaling his food, all while managing to keep one eye on the movements on the baseball diamond. While he wasn’t much of a baseball fan, Clint knew, from the few times he’d actually sat and watched the game with Phil, they were getting ready for the opening pitch. A pitch that some Hollywood celebrity was supposed to be throwing. Sarah had told him the name, but it had gone in one ear and out the other.

Luckily, Bucky saved him from having to ask. “Who is it again?”

“Who’s who?” Sarah replied, after taking a sip of her stout.

“The dame, who’s throwing out the first pitch.”

Evie rolled her eyes while Steve made his kicked puppy look. “Buck, you can’t call them that,” he stated, causing Bucky to shrug and look back at Sarah as he waited for her answer.

“Sugar Kane,” Sarah supplied, earning more than a couple of blank looks from her family. “She’s a pop star made famous by Auto-Tune.”

“Auto-Tune…” Steve repeated, trailing a little before he ventured, “Is that where they digitally alter a person’s voice?”

“Exactly,” Phil replied as he reached over to steal his fries back from Clint. Though as soon as he had the cup back, he looked mournfully at its lack of contents and said, “My fries.”

Pressing his lips to Phil’s cheek, Clint murmured “Sorry…” into the pale skin before smirking as he licked his husband’s cheek, causing Phil to squawk sharply. Evie laughed at her son-in-law while Sarah took two fries from her own cup before passing it over to her dad, who took it graciously with a smile.

“She’s sounds like a stripper,” Bucky commented off-handedly as he dug into his fried pickles from Brother Jimmy’s BBQ.

“And what do you know about strippers,” Evie shot back, causing both shock and laughter within the group. Sarah and Clint found it hilarious, while Steve and Phil were left gob-smacked by her quick retort. As for Bucky, he seemed to be both equally impressed and proud by her witty remark.

“Nothin’ you need to know about, sweetheart,” Bucky winked. And instead of getting a reaction from Evie, Steve was the one, who blushed bright red, causing one or two of them to shoot questioning looks between the pair. However, none of them were willing to ask because honestly, they didn’t really want to know about their parents/grandparents/in-laws sexual history. It was one thing to know that sex had happened at some point, it’s another thing entirely to let your mind drift there.

“Oh look,” Sarah gushed in faux brightness with a clap of her hands, “it’s Sugar Kane. Let’s watch that train wreck, instead of this one.”

Leaning back in her chair, Sarah focused her attention on a leggy blonde in heels--3 inches too high for the baseball diamond’s dirt and grass--, a fluorescent pink miniskirt, a Yankee jersey that someone had turned into a crop top that allowed the stadium to see the pale blue and pink rune tattoo on her stomach.

“Who thought that was a good idea?” Bucky remarked, leaning forward into Sarah’s personal space. The former assassin was so close that all Sarah had to do was turn her head slightly and she could have laid a kiss on his cheek, which she did.

Sarah grinned when the skin across Bucky’s nose flushed pink, though it wasn’t out of embarrassment that much Sarah knew. After what her brief and only meeting with the Soldier, Bucky had spent months following Steve’s arrival being skittish of Sarah, like he was scared of being rejected by her. Yet the young beta surprised him by being the one to come to him, showing him little touches of affection when he allowed it. Like now.

Pulling away, Bucky settled back in his chair and reached over, tangling his metal fingers with Steve’s, before taking a sip of his beer. Clint hadn’t been lying about it being water downed, so wonder Sarah had settled for the Guinness.

“Happy?” Steve’s breath ghosted across Bucky’s ear, sending shivers down the brunette’s spine. With a turn of his head, Bucky caught a flash of Steve’s devilish grin, a grin that Bucky just had to do something about. So without a care in the world, Bucky leaned over and caught his husband’s lips in a kiss. A kiss that while chaise was by no means without passion.

“What’s not to be happy about, Stevie,” Bucky murmured. “I’m here watching baseball with you and our family.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed with a smile, pressing his shoulder into Bucky as he settled back in his seat, ready to enjoy a day at the ball field with his family.

Seventy years ago, Bucky and Evie had been the center of his world. A world that he woken up to find had expanded to include three more people, and if he was reading all the signs correctly then in a few short months, his world was going expand again and he couldn’t wait.


End file.
